Playing Light on Dark
by Ellagne
Summary: Amira never wanted to be in the Republic Fleet, and a chain of events leave her stranded on Taris with a Republic pilot and a Jedi to rescue. But Amira's notorious for adapting to new situations and is always open to mess with the Sith in any way possible.
1. Taris

_Author's Notes:_ This is **not** the story mentioned in my A/N of Dragon's Wisdom, but it is coming sometime in the future (depends on how quickly I write this one and my K2 story).

**Chapter 1 – Taris**

_Darth Revan stood at the head of the Bridge, waiting for the opponents to arrive. Four Jedi entered the room, and everyone but the Dark Lord attacked. Darth Revan stayed put, watching the entertaining–_

Amira glanced out at the hangar bay of the Republic ship that had caught their smuggling vessel in a tractor beam.  
"Shit-damn," she muttered as they landed and Republic soldiers swarmed up the boarding ramp. Amira and her companions drew their weapons–

Lightsabers snap-hissed to life and swung into aggressive stances. The two wielders, both indistinct figures, began a deadly dance. The red and purple beams of light clashed together, complete with accompanying noises. The two red beams crossed each other, while the single purple beam swung around and sliced through flesh, muscle and bone. Someone howled in pain through the Force, unable to speak–

There was the sound of a large explosion, which made the small pod lurch. The woman's head connected hard with the plasteel wall and her body went slack–

Amira's eyes snapped open as she lurched up in the bed. The world swirled sickeningly so she fell back on the grimy bedsheets. Groping around for a weapon of some sort, Amira realised she had no idea where she was. Well, she didn't intend to stay for long. Unluckily, her hands found nothing useful; but Amira lifted herself up again anyway, slower this time. Her head felt like drunk banthas had partied on it.

"About time. I thought you were going to slip into a coma," a male voice commented. Her head snapped up to see a man in a jacket that was a painful shade of orange entering the run down room. Something tugged on the edges of her memory, but it remained elusive. She could've sworn she had seen him before. . .

"I'm sorry, but should I know you?" Amira was really hoping she hadn't gotten herself incredibly drunk and let this man have his way with her. But the lack of hangover negated that theory.

He half smirked, though concern for her mental state was the dominant expression on his face. "It seems that hit to your head did more damage than I thought–"

"Hit to my head?" Amira echoed in a dangerous tone. If the situation had been less serious, she probably would've made a smartassed comment.

"We were on the _Endar Spire_ and it got attacked by Sith–"

Images of blood, fighting and fire invaded her mind and she heard nothing more of what her companion said.

"I remember. . . most of it. Carth." His name was part of the things which came back to her. There were some holes in her memory, though. Such as, how she got from entering the escape pod to waking up in this room.

Amira tried to slide out from under the covers, but Carth was there in an instant. As he pushed Amira back down, she realised he had been sidling closer throughout the conversation, and sulked for a moment that she hadn't noticed.

"You just woke up. Maybe it would be better to wait a bit before getting up," he said. Amira scowled at him, though Carth ignored it.

"Say, how did we get here from the escape pod? And where is 'here'?" Amira queried, pointing down for emphasis.

"This is an abandoned apartment. I was able to drag you away from the crash site in all the confusion, and I stumbled onto this apartment. By the time the Sith arrived on the scene, we were long gone."

"I guess I owe you my life," Amira admitted grudgingly, "thanks."

"I've never abandoned anyone on a mission and I'm not about to start now. But I'm going to need your help."

"Should I be concerned?" she asked warily.

"Well, if you say that Taris being under Sith control is concerning, then yeah. Their fleet is orbiting the planet, they've declared martial law and they've imposed a planet-wide quarantine."

"Um, yeah, I'm concerned."

Carth shrugged. "I've been in worse spots."

"So have I, but it doesn't change the fact we're knee deep in crap."

"Hey, we have a few advantages," Carth pointed out. "I saw on your service records that you understand a remarkable number of alien languages. That's pretty rare in a raw recruit."

"Hey, I had a _life_ before I got conscripted." A flicker of a frown settled on her face.

"Yes -- smuggling and who knows what else."

Amira raised an eyebrow delicately and growled, "You better not be implying what I think you're implying."

"Get your mind out of the gutter," he ordered, before returning back on track, "anyway, there is no way the Republic will be able to help us. If we're going to find Bastila and get off Taris, we won't be able to rely on anyone but ourselves."

"Right. Can I get up now?" Amira sounded like an innocent child, trying to charm the pilot.

While the trick didn't succeed the way it usually did on other males, Carth let her get up carefully. She lurched into him and swore profusely. Oh joy. Of all the crew, I get the one with the really bad language, Carth thought as he steadied her. Amira blushed slightly and lumbered over to what she assumed was the refresher.

"Say, what's your name?" Carth called out.

"Amira." She shut the refresher door.

She went straight to the cracked mirror and studied her reflection. Despite the dim light, she saw that her black hair looked like a womp rat's nest, to which her pale skin seemed to contrast more than usual with. Her eyes were deep emerald, but encircling her pupils there was a thin ring of earthy brown, with some flecks of chocolate invading the jade. There was a dark bruise on one of her cheeks, but it didn't matter much to the woman.

She checked that water was still being pumped to the shower head before quickly stripping down and hopping in. Amira cataloged her injuries, and luckily nothing seemed serious.

Thankfully her worn clothes survived without much injury either. Amira slipped back into her trousers, plain shirt and faded holey jacket. Lastly Amira finger-combed then tied up her shoulder-length hair back into a ponytail, excluding the two shorter locks which immediately fell out to frame each side of her face.

She walked back into the main room and saw Carth wasn't there. _Oh man,_ she thought as she sat down. He probably thought she was the type of woman who would take two hour long showers no matter what the situation was. _Well, watch out Onasi, 'cause I'm not a pampered princess,_ she thought with a smirk as she put her feet on the table.

A few minutes later, Carth came back with some food right as one of the table legs gave way, making the whole thing collapse. Amira flailed for a moment before regaining balance as her feet hit the ground.

She smiled sheepishly and said, "I didn't do it."

"Oh, yeah, I believe you," he replied sarcastically.

"Hey, it ain't my fault if the table decides it wants to break," she protested.

Carth rolled his eyes. "You're like a kid, you know that."

"In some aspects. I doubt a kid could slice into a computer system as well as I can, or fight as well."

"Well, while you make a list of things you can do better than a child, I'm gonna eat lunch."

He tossed her a bottle of water and a box of food. They ate in silence for a while, before Amira asked, "So Bastila is a Jedi, and we have to rescue her. Don't you think she can look after herself, being a Force wielder and all that fancy pants crap?"

"Bastila is going to have an entire army looking for her, while no one is going to care about us. So if we're careful, we can move about Taris without attracting notice; a luxury Bastila won't have. Besides, if Bastila is going to escape Taris, she's going to need our help. And we're most likely going to need hers."

"At this point in time, I don't really think her help will do much."

Carth began to look irritated. "Bastila is the key to the war effort. With her Battle Meditation, she can change the outcome of a battle."

Amira decided to make her opinion clear. "And currently, the _Spire_ is scrap metal floating in space. But if it means getting off Taris, I suppose I can help."

"Good. We're going to need to work together if we're going to survive."

"No shit." Amira stood up and searched for her weapons.

"Will you cut that out?"

"What?"

"The smartass comments."

"What about them?"

Carth scowled at her. "Do you get pleasure from annoying me?"

"Yep," she snickered. "It runs in the family, I swear."

He sighed, extremely irritated, then continued, "Anyway, while you were out I did some scouting around, and some people claim some escape pods landed in the Undercity. That's probably a good place to start."

Amira, who was now buckling on her two vibroblades, looked up. "I hear a 'but' in the offing."

"But the Undercity is a dangerous place. It won't do anyone any good if we go and get ourselves killed."

"Or turned into rakghouls." Amira checked her vibrodagger was still in place then continued, "Come on, I wanna go have a look around."

"Good idea, just remember to keep a low profile. I've heard some dark things about Force powers. They say they can strip away your memories and destroy your very identity!" A shiver tickled unpleasantly up Amira's spine. She tried to ignore her instincts and focus back on what her companion was saying. "But I figure if we don't do anything stupid, we should be fine."

"Define stupid."

Carth glared at Amira, who smiled back winningly. "Let's go," he growled.

They walked out of the apartment, straight into a patrol of Sith.

"OK, you alien scum, everyone up against the wall! This is a raid!"

"One hell of a crappy raid," Amira commented casually as a Duros spoke up.

_"There was a patrol here yesterday, and they found nothing! Why do you Sith keep on bothering us?"_

The Sith shot down the alien with cold efficiency, then spun to face Amira.

"What did you say?" he snarled.

"I said: one hell of crappy raid! Get your ears checked," she shouted back then sprang at him, drawing her vibroblades and easily killing the Sith. Carth shot his companions, thinking, _What happened to keeping a low profile?_

_"Poor Ixgil,"_ another Duros said as Amira cleaned her blades, _"he should never have talked back that Sith, but luckily you took care of them. Thank you, human."_

A thoughtful look came across her face. _"Won't another patrol look for this one?"_ She spoke in the Duros' native tongue to be courteous, and gestured to the corpses littering the ground.

_"Don't worry, I will move the bodies elsewhere to throw the Sith off the track. Hopefully they won't bother us for a while."_

_"Alright, thanks."_ Amira smiled slightly, then continued down the corridor.

Carth caught up easily and asked cautiously, "Is that what you call not attracting attention?"

"Pfft, no. But would you have done different? Besides, it's not like those carcasses are gonna report us." Amira shrugged.

"In future, at least don't speak loudly."

"Right."

They exited the apartments and headed down the street. Amira looked around, trying to set up her bearings.

"But I don't have that much! How can I give you money I don't have?" a panicked voice called. Amira and Carth shared a glance before casually strolling towards to commotion. A human and an Aqualish were in the process of bullying an elderly man.

"That's too bad. Davik's going to want to make an example of you. You're coming with us!"

"No! Somebody, help!"

Amira couldn't help but be surprised that no one else even glanced at the commotion, and took a step closer. _From one fight to another,_ she thought dryly, noting the thugs' drawn weapons. The Aqualish looked up and saw her and Carth.

_"Hold on, we've got witnesses. Davik doesn't like witnesses."_

"No, I imagine not," Amira noted in a bored tone.

The human made a rude hand gesture. "Bugger off or we'll just have to do something about you, too."

"I would love to see you try," she challenged, drawing her blades. The thugs both raised their vibroblades, though one was shot down by Carth before he could attack. Amira parried her opponent's thrust, then pushed their locked vibroblades to the side. Quicker than the thug could anticipate, her other vibroblade was embedded in his chest. Amira kicked him off her sword and then looted anything of value.

"Thank you - I owe you my life! I should have heeded my wife's warning, she told me not to take a loan from Davik," the merchant exclaimed, speaking quickly and shaking slightly.

"May I inquire who is this Davik?" Amira inquired casually, wiping the blood off her vibroblade.

The merchant looked surprised. "You must be off-worlders," he assumed before continuing, "Davik is a crime lord for the Exchange in the Lower City–"

Comprehension dawned on Amira's features. "Aha, 'nuff said. Crime lord for the Exchange."

"Well, I best be off. Only now I can't pay off my debts so. . ." The merchant walked away, muttering under his breath.

"Do you know where the cantina is?" Amira asked Carth.

"Yeah, it's back there. Let's go." He turned and doubled back the way they came. Amira shrugged then followed.

~.~.~

"I can't believe we didn't get tickets to the Arena match!" one woman exclaimed. Amira looked in her peripheral vision from where she sat on the barstool. The speaker was venting to the man next to her, and Amira assumed he was her husband or something.  
"Now we have to watch the duel from the view screen."

"Who cares?" he snorted, "it's just Deadeye and Gerlon fighting _again_. Nothing exciting."

"Well, let's go watch it." The woman pulled the man up and dragged him away from the bar.

Amira was intrigued, so she downed the rest of her drink and got up. "I wanna see this."

She followed the couple to said view screens, and Amira squeezed through to the front of the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I draw your attention to the dueling ring. Here two combatants will battle for your viewing and gambling enjoyment. Now, I hope all your bets are down because we're ready to roll!" the announcer started in an excited tone, then abruptly became bored, "in this corner, I give you Gerlon Two-Fingers! And over here, looking to climb the ranks yet again is the ever persistent Deadeye Duncan!"

Amira snorted when Duncan dropped his blaster, allowing Gerlon Two-Fingers to shoot him down. The crowd around her laughed, though a few off-worlders looked disappointed.

"And, to nobody's great surprise, Deadeye is down again. Don't worry, folks - he's just unconscious, as usual. Our medics will have him up and about in a bit. Well, that was quick, wasn't it? So I give you the winner. . . Gerlon Two-Fingers!"

Some people cheered, though others looked bored. Amira weaved back through the dissipating crowd to Carth.

"I've got an idea on how to get credits." Their current amount was pitifully small.

"Tell me, does it have anything to do with the Arena?"

"Of course not. It's to do with the fighting _in_ the Arena." Amira smirked, then turned away back through to another section of the cantina. Spotting a Hutt nearby, and knowing how Hutts love their credits, she decided he would probably have something to do with betting on the Arena participants. A nudge in the right direction on how to sign up, for sure.

Stopping seven feet away from the mass of stinking flesh, Amira and Carth waited for the Hutt to notice them. Fortunately it took only a few seconds._"I'm sorry humans - the betting window's closed. No more fights right now. People are sick of seeing the same duelists all the time. It's been bad for business. Unless..."_ A speculative look came into his watery orb-like eyes. _"My name is Ajuur. I organize all the duels here. We need a new face in the dueling game, human. Maybe you want step into the duel ring? It can be a highly profitable venture."_

"I might be interested - what's in this for me?" She smiled coyly, deciding to find out just how desperate he was.

_"I can arrange for you to fight in the duel ring. If you win, you can get the standard contract: ten percent of all wagers. And don't worry, nobody dies in the duel ring anymore – death matches are illegal now. Most fighters in the duel ring use vibroblades or stun sticks because the ring's pretty small, but a few of the duelists use blasters. Use whichever you prefer."_

"Vibroblades and blasters – and nobody ever dies?" Carth looked skeptical. "How come I get the feeling you're trying to take us for a ride?"

_"The duel ring has energy suppressor fields to make sure nobody dies. Weapons are limited so they hurt, but don't kill. And we've got a medic droid in case of serious injuries,"_ Ajuur warbled, then turned back to Amira, sizing her up. _"Are you interested?"_

Amira made a snap decision to push her luck. "I'll do it, but I want more than ten percent."

The Hutt laughed loudly. _"You're joking, right?"_

"If you think it's funny," Amira shrugged, hiding her disappointment. She liked to think she got points for _trying_ to wheedle credits out of a Hutt.

_"If I pay you more, then everyone wants more. No, you get the same as all the others: ten percent. That's my final offer."_

"Okay, I'll do it."

Ajuur grinned broadly, and the two humans wrinkled their noses at the stench coming from his mouth. _"Good - new blood for the ring! But you need a nickname, like Ice or Deadeye or Twitch. Good nicknames make people bet more. Hmmm. . . what's a good nickname for you?"_ He was quite for a minute or so, musing. _"You're an off-worlder. You're new here, so people won't recognize you. . . I know! From now on in the duel ring you'll be the Mysterious Stranger!"_

"The Mysterious Stranger," Amira repeated, rolling the title around her mouth. "I like it!"

He looked incredibly smug, his alien features twisting ways they probably shouldn't have. _"The Mysterious Stranger is a perfect name for you. You've got no past, no history. . . it makes you seem like you have a big, dark secret. People like that. Makes them bet more."_

Amira snorted quietly. Everything came back to credits when you were dealing with a Hutt.

Now that he had a new participant signed up, Ajuur wanted to start earning more credits ASAP. _"You ready for duel now? You want step into the ring right away? I'll tell you the rules if you're ready."_

"I'm ready for a duel, and I know how dueling generally works. No death blows, but anything else is acceptable." Amira patted her blades, smiling in a slightly ominous fashion.

_"You're new at this, so I'll start you off easy."_ Ajuur noted how her face fell slightly, but didn't particularly care. _"You get to fight Deadeye Duncan. Are you ready to go into the ring now?"_

"Let's do it."


	2. A Plan Begins

**Chapter 2 - A Plan Begins**

Amira had beaten Deadeye Duncan and Gerlon Two-Fingers without much difficulty, bought herself some Echani light armour with the credits earned; and was now lazing on a seat next to Carth, waiting for the match between Marl and Twitch to end so she could fight Ice.

"Carth?" she asked.

"Yes? What's on your mind?"

"Since there isn't much to do, I'd like to get to know you more."

The pilot looked surprised. "Me? Well, I've been a star-pilot for Republic for years, and I've seen more than my fair share of wars. I fought in the Mandalorian Wars before all this began."

"Hm, yeah, I'm not surprised you fought the Mandies," Amira commented.

"But the Sith animals are much worse than the Mandalorians ever were. I've experienced the slaughter both can wreak, and I have to admit I prefer the Mandalorians." Now his body posture and tone took on restlessness. . . and a faint amount of pain. "My home world was one of the first to fall to Malak's fleet. The Sith bombed it into submission and there wasn't a damn thing our Republic forces could do to stop them!"

Amira kept her expression neutral. _And how many Outer Rim worlds are attacked by pirates or Mandalorians every day?_ After wandering the fringes of known space, she was calloused to the pain of losing one's homeworld."I won't say 'I'm sorry' or anything pointless like that. I'm sure you're sick of it." _And it wouldn't be genuine_, she mentally added.

"Yeah," he replied shortly. There were a few seconds of a heavy silence. "You probably mean well with your questions, but I'm not accustomed to talking about my past much. At all, actually. I'm more used to taking action, keeping my mind focused on the business at hand. If you have more questions, ask them later."

Ice prowled over to where they were sitting. "The arena is getting cleaned, then we'll fight. Looking forward to losing?" She smiled coldly.

Amira smiled warmly back. "If I blow in your ear, will you forget we have a match, blondie?"

"You're gonna regret that," Ice growled.

"Save it for the ring. I would hate for you to lose any earlier," the dark-haired woman laughed.

"We'll see, schutta."

"Ladies and gentlemen, draw your eyes to the centre ring! We have a very special presentation in store for you," the announcer called to the cheering spectators, "over in this corner, a woman with steel on her bones and ice water in her veins. She's cold and quick as death itself. You know her, you love her. . . Ice!"

Ice punched the air, while Amira gave her opponent the finger.

"And in the other corner, a rising star taking the first step into the big leagues. . . I give you the Mysterious Stranger!"

Ice and Amira stalked forward, and began circling – drawing the match out and increasing the tension. Ice lunged first, aiming high. Amira threw up her vibroblades to block, then leaned her weight forward. Ice positioned her feet better, and provided solid resistance, before kicking Amira's knee. They both broke the lock and rolled away, to begin circling again.

"Not giving a good show for the bloodthirsty crowd," Amira smirked. "C'mon Ice, we can both do better than this!"

They rushed to meet each other. Amira feinted to the left, and parried Ice's thrust. Ice's lightning-fast hand snaked out to twist Amira's left wrist. Her vibroblade fell to the ground, where Ice kicked it away.

"You schutta," Amira growled, looking incredibly dangerous.

"I could say the same of you," she retorted, swinging her vibroblade at Amira's kidney. She foolishly grabbed the oncoming blade, which sliced through Amira's palm. Amira tightened her grip, grunting, and twisted the vibroblade. Ice's grip loosened, which was all Amira needed to wrench it completely away from the blonde and fling it away, droplets of blood flying everywhere.

"Hand to hand?" Amira asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

"You're on," Ice hissed.  
Amira sprang back and threw her sword to the edges of the Arena, to which the crowd began chanting, "Catfight! Catfight! Catfight!"

Ice and Amira tightened their circle, and Amira threw the first punch. Ice sidestepped and caught her wrist, then kicked Amira in the back of the knee. Amira twisted around as she fell, managing to grip Ice's elbow and drag her down too.

The crowd was shouting incredibly loudly now, but it didn't drown out furiously pulsing hearts and quick breaths. Amira jabbed Ice in the kidney, who rolled away. Amira rolled with her, straddling Ice's hips and started punching her face. There was a crack as Ice's nose broke, and she cried out. It fueled Amira and she smiled. Ice tried to punch the woman on top of her, but Amira easily grabbed her wrists and slammed them to the ground.

"Surrender?" Amira hissed.

"You wish!" Ice threw her legs up, hitting Amira in the back. Amira rolled away and they both rose to their feet again. Blood dripped from Ice's nose to splash almost inaudibly against the plasteel floor.

Amira pressed her advantage immediately, kneeing Ice in the gut. But Ice was stronger than Amira believed, and elbowed her hard in the mouth as she doubled over. Amira snapped back, tasting a hot metallic liquid in her mouth. She spat a gob of blood on the ground as Ice straightened up.

They both brought their fists up and growled. Ice dodged Amira's blow and punched her in the cheek. Amira lashed out, once again hitting Ice in the stomach. Amira blocked Ice's next blow, pushing it to the side but couldn't block Ice's kick. Amira fell back, overbalanced and fell to the ground. Ice carefully moved around, out of Amira's reach, then sprang forward.

Viciously kicking Amira, particularly around the head, Ice smirked. "Give up?"

"Hell no!" Amira shrieked, grabbing Ice's ankle and pulling her down. Using the time, Amira unsteadily rose again. She was hit by a wave of vertigo, and shadows clouded her vision for a few moments before receding to the edges.

Ice had gotten to her feet and was now coming forward to land the final blow. Amira blocked the first one ungainly, and managed to throw a punch into Ice's jaw. Ice reeled, and Amira used the last of her strength in a final blow to her opponent's temple.  
Ice dropped to the ground like a sack of stones, leaving Amira swaying and blinking heavily.

The crowd roared, and the announcer said, "It's over! The fight is over - the Mysterious Stranger has won! Ice is knocked out cold! Looks like was have a rising star in the Mysterious Stranger, folks; but how high can this star soar? You'll have to watch and see!"

The dark wisps once again invaded Amira's vision and she fell unconscious to the ground.

Twice Carth had carried an unconscious and patched up Amira to their apartment, and twice he had watched her writhe in the thrall of nightmares. She groaned as she rolled over yet again, sweating, black hair spilling on the pillow. Carth stood up and approached the woman as her fists balled up.

"Don't call me that," she breathed, scowling in her sleep.

He decided enough was enough and shook her shoulder. "Amira, wake up!"

Her eyes snapped open as she lurched up, one fist coming around in a reflex action. Carth grabbed her tired hand easily. "Amira."

Recognition sparked in her eyes, and her cheeks flamed with chagrin. "Whoa, crap," Amira panted, eyes wide, "sorry."

"Don't worry about it," he replied, releasing her hand.

"What time is it?" the woman asked, still slightly breathless.

"Around five thirty in the morning, local time."

"Early morning today, then," she muttered and got up.

As she turned to walk to the refresher, Carth grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him. "You OK?" He gazed at her intently. She nodded and stared back. "Is that your natural eye colour?" Carth asked, staring into the jade and earth eyes.

"Green is, but the brown isn't," Amira laughed a little. "It's a wonder what chemicals can do to organic material."

Delicately extracting herself from his grip, Amira finished her trek to the refresher.

Amira was quite irritated and ready to lash out with the littlest excuse. When they had gotten within ten feet of the elevator to the Lower City, the Sith on duty had blatantly told them to piss off or things would get nasty.

"Will you join my cause?" a loud voice echoed across the wide street. "We must band together if we are to stop the spread of vermin and scum throughout Taris!"

"Are you referring to the Sith?" Amira casually strolled over, Carth a wary shadow behind her.

The old man shook his head sadly at the woman's unknowingness. "I am speaking of the hideous aliens who walk the world of Taris! That is why I have formed the Anti-Alien league. The time has come for action! We cannot sit idly while aliens blight our glorious planet."

All while he had been speaking, Amira's face had steadily been sinking further into unmasked disgust. "I don't know what's worse – your hate mongering or your ignorance," she spat. "And what glorious planet do you speak of? All I see is a cheap hole built on the foundations of racism and arrogance."

The old man glared resentfully at her. "You are like all the rest–"

"What, the ones you kicked down to the Lower and Undercities?"

"You won't see the truth. On the day of reckoning you'll suffer with the rest of alien lovers!"

She laughed viciously without humour. "Suffer because we are allergic to the bantha crap you're spouting?"

Carth decided to intervene and pulled the woman away, muttering, "Come on, just walk away. Even if I agree with you said to that crazy, he can cause trouble for us."

Amira didn't resist, but did growl curses in Mandalorian at the racist man.

"Where to now?" Carth wondered.

"Cantina - I need a drink."

"Hi there, you're the Mysterious Stranger, right?"

Amira looked up from her alcohol at a well-groomed man. The other patrons were studiously looking the other way, ignoring him. "Yep."

"Great match yesterday, though I haven't seen you around here much. At all before a few days ago, actually," he smiled. "Of course, they don't give us Sith officers much time off."

Amira immediately switched on the charisma, and subtly slid further in front of Carth, who was sitting on her other side, so the young Sith couldn't see he was now stroking his blaster. "You're a Sith?" Amira feigned polite confusion, and purposely worded her next sentence in hopes of him loosening his tongue. "You don't look like someone from the military base."

"I'm off duty right now, so I'm not in uniform. My name is Yun Genda – junior officer first class with the Sith occupation force," he stated.

"Nice to meet you, Yun," Amira smiled charmingly.

They idly chatted about mundane topics, both ignoring the incredibly moody Carth, before Yun said, slightly incredulously, "I'm a little surprised you're even talking to me at all. . . most people on Taris can't stand us Sith. It can make this a pretty lonely job."

_So that's why they were giving you a wide berth, and you had better not be implying what I think you're implying,_ Amira thought acidly, but instead shrugged and said, blase, "You're just doing your job, I can't blame you for that." _Yes, I can_.

"That's true, could've done worse things to this planet," Carth tensed behind Amira, but she didn't notice, "but we didn't. You know, it's like everyone on Taris is in a permanently bad mood."

"Well, this is a racist backwater planet that has lost the little importance it had. No wonder no one is really happy," Amira muttered. "But really, it's not the situation that matters, it's how you deal with it."

"Exactly! I wish I wasn't assigned here, but I make the best of it. It's easy to get depressed here, but we do what we can to keep our spirits up."

"Yeah, you need to blow off steam once in a while," she agreed.

Yun looked at the time on a nearby wall chrono and said hurriedly, "I better get going soon for my shift, but some of us are having a party after our shift ends. It would be nice to see you again – why don't you drop by?"

She grinned triumphantly. "Sounds great! I'll be there."

Yun gave her directions to the apartment then warned, "Don't be late, it starts straight after our shift ends. Heh, we won't even have time to lock up our uniforms. See you there!"

Yun tossed down a tip large enough to pay for all their drinks and left. Amira let herself bathe in cocky victory, laughing.

"'You wouldn't catch me being like this to a Sith', eh?" Carth growled.

"I was faking it, geez," Amira huffed. "And it worked, didn't it? Going to that party means we could get information - find out if they know anything about Bastila, a way off Taris or even steal their uniforms and hope that gets us somewhere."

He didn't reply.

The Sith across from Amira fell off his seat.

"I sshink I win," she slurred, leaning back. "Exchuse me." Amira stumbled her way into the refresher. The two Sith that were still left standing opened more bottles of Tarisian ale. Carth resisted the urge to roll his eyes as the last conscious female – not counting Amira – fell down next to him, spilling alcohol all over herself.

"Hhey. . . handshoome." She seemed to be having a hard time keeping her eyes uncrossed, but somehow managed to latch onto him with a feeble yet determined grip.

"I'm sorry miss, but I'm not interested." He tried to keep the loathing out of his voice, though the Sith probably wouldn't notice in this state. She pouted and snuggled closer, while Carth pulled away. While those two fought, neither noticed Amira walk only slightly unsteadily out of the refresher, silently pick up an empty bottle and stalk over to the only other party member still conscious, if only slightly.

The pilot's head snapped up when Amira smashed the bottle over the Sith's head. He crumpled to the ground, while the woman Sith clumsily looked in the wrong direction.

"Whaa. . ." she murmured.

Carth glanced down at the woman beside him, then at Amira.

She snorted, then started counting quietly. "Five, four, three, two, one."

As if on cue, the Sith fainted back on the couch.

Amira snickered, "How much alcohol did she consume to be interested in you?"

Carth rolled his eyes. "Shut up. Wait, you're not slurring."

"Do yoush wan' me to?" she asked.

"But you had _how_ much booze?" CArth objected, skeptical. "Not mentioning it was Tarisian Ale."

Amira crouched down, overbalancing for a few moments, to search the recently-knocked out Sith at her feet for anything useful. "I have a few methods of staying fairly sober, plus I have a naturally high tolerance."

She seemed to be having difficulty returning to her feet, so Carth stood up and lent her a hand.

"Do you remember where they put those uniforms?" Amira asked Carth.

"In that foot locker," he replied, jerking his chin in the foot locker's general direction.

"Well, if I bend down again I won't be able to get back up, so you should probably get them."

Carth sighed but pulled out two Sith uniforms in sizes he estimated they would be able to fit into, respectively.

As it turned out, Amira was more tipsy than she let on, since she had to lean on Carth all the way back, and mistook which apartment was theirs.

"Hey, it's not polite to just walk in wherever!" the woman snapped, holding her Echani quarterstaff tightly.

Amira looked chagrined while Carth said, "My apologies, ma'am. My companion here is a little drunk. That Tarisian Ale has quite a kick."

The woman didn't relax but said, "Well, I suppose that's alright. But don't make the same mistake again!"

"Don't worry, miss . . ." Carth trailed off, not knowing her name.

". . . Dia." The expression on her face looked like she was signing her own death certificate.

"Well, we'll be going now." He grabbed Amira's arm and dragged her away to the right apartment.

"Going down to the Lower City, eh?" the same Sith guard who had told them to bugger off earlier asked.

"Yes," Amira replied, keeping her tone neutral.

"Well, watch out – those swoop gang wars are getting nasty. Some of them will even take a shot at us Sith!"

"We'll be careful," Amira promised.

She and Carth entered the elevator, and pulled off their helmets when the doors closed.

"It worked. I am a genius," Amira gloated.


	3. The Lower City

_Author's Notes:_ I'm not going to put much description of the Lower City and Undercity in, since I'm sure it'll be boring and redundant.

**Chapter 3 – The Lower City**

"Is this a good time to ask more questions?" Amira asked, glancing around the dull elevator. Their stolen uniforms were lying discarded on the ground, though they both had agreed that keeping them would be handy.

"I'm all ears, beautiful."

Amira leaned back against the elevator wall, and then smiled slyly. She was generally unaffected by flattery, but enjoyed as much as the next person. "I like the sound of that."

"Which? The fact that I'm all ears, or the beautiful part?"

"The 'beautiful' part, of course."

Carth put in the effort to be friendlier, "I might consider calling you that more often, but what would you call me in exchange?"

Amira considered that, "How about. . . 'handsome thug'?"

He chuckled, "I like the first part, but I'm a tad more partial to 'the most handsome pilot in the galaxy'. What do you think?"

"There's one problem: it's too long. How about 'handsome flyboy'?"

Carth shrugged, "'Handsome flyboy'? It's okay, I guess."

She smiled, then said, "And bravo on the damn fine stalling technique, but you're gonna have to do better than that."

Carth had hoped that calling Amira 'beautiful' might've distracted her, or at least softened her, but hid his disappointment well behind irritation. That seemed to be the emotion he had felt the most since the _Endar Spire_ had been blown into space dust. "You aren't going to give up asking questions, are you?"

"Damn straight."

"Are they really necessary?"

"Old habits are hard to break," Amira shrugged.

"Old habits?" Carth echoed suspiciously.

"Standard smuggling practices – know your companions so you're prepared in case anything happens."

"You were a smuggler?" He frowned, "I should've known. Why were you recruited into the fleet, then?"

Amira tapped the side of her head, "Knowledge. Besides, it was better option than rotting in prison. Is there a point to that question?"

"I just find it a little. . . strange that a shady woman added to the crew at the last minute by the Jedi's request just so happened to survive."

Amira groaned, "Oh, no. Don't tell me you're one of those conspiracy theorists." A slightly suspicious look entered her features, "Unless you mean to imply that you wish I died?"

"Are you crazy, woman?"

Amira considered that for a moment and nodded cheerfully. Then something occurred to her. "Wait, Bastila wanted me on board?"

"The Jedi requested thousands of things when they came on board; hell, they practically took over the Spire," Carth sounded like he was trying to justify the odd request, "But all this seems a little convenient, don't you think?"

Amira didn't want to say anything that would increase his suspicion, but was unsure how he would react to her reply, "Maybe. I'm just as in the dark as you are. Hell, I'm the person who can't properly remember what happened on the day the Sith attacked."

"Really?" She shot him a glare. _Nope, it still fed his paranoia_, she sighed mentally, "I'm probably wrong and this is most likely nothing, but I learned a long time ago not to take things at face value and I hate surprises."

"You now we're on the same side. . . sort of. . . right?" Amira asked, crossing her arms over her torso.

Carth wanted to roll his eyes, despite how childish the gesture was, "Look, it's got nothing to do with you personally–"

"It better not."

"It doesn't -- I don't trust anyone. I have my reasons, which I'm not going to discuss. So can we just get a move on?"

Amira was silent for a moment then a stubborn expression hardened her face, "If you think that you've heard the last from me about this, think again."

"Ugh! You must be the most damned persistent woman I've ever met!"

"Of course."

"We'll talk about it, _later_."

"That's what you said last time!"

The elevator ground to a halt, the gears screeching loudly in lament of their neglect in care. Amira checked her vibroblades weren't caught on anything and would slide from their sheaths unobstructed. She didn't know if it had occurred to Carth - though being a seasoned soldier, it had - that this was the first time they would be properly fighting together. She hoped that their opposing combat styles would prove to be an asset and not a detriment.

"Well, let's go," Carth said, holding his Sith uniform under one arm and keeping the other free to grab his blaster if need be. Amira did the same.

It was all business now - the Lower City wasn't safe enough for two forced companions to let their quarrels get in the way of their mission. Amira looked around the degraded streets as they made their way through filth and rubble. This seemed more honest to her than the Upper City. In the tops of the towers, rich snobs pretended they lived on a beautiful world that many longed to live on. But down here, the decay and dirt was what Taris really was - a haven for thieves, scoundrels and racists.

"We should probably dump these somewhere," Amira commented. The concept of dragging such a bulky hindrance around was just asking someone to prey upon their weakness.  
"Yeah, but where? We'd have to find a really sneaky hiding place to stop thieves," Carth pointed out.  
"I know," Amira sighed in frustration, "Stupid shiny Sith armour."

They rounded the corner and stopped in their tracks. Two groups of people were arguing loudly. One gang had their backs to Amira and Carth, while the other stood opposite them. The group that faced Carth and Amira noticed their new audience and screamed while drawing their weapons.

"I don't think they like us," Amira noted.

_"We Black Vulkars shall destroy the Hidden Beks and their reinforcements!"_ one alien shouted, charging. A Bek turned around to see who their 'reinforcements' were, and jumped back as Amira sprang forward to slash at the Vulkar about to shove a shock stick into the Bek's face.

It was a standard street fight, with Amira and Carth making an impromptu decision to side with the Hidden Beks. . . whoever they were. Amira ran one Black Vulkar through with her vibroblade from behind, giving a wild grin to the Bek who was about to be slashed at. Before he could grin back, the last Vulkar standing threw her into a wall with as much force as he could muster. Amira slid to the ground, losing consciousness for a second. When her eyes focused again, Amira wasn't surprised to see her thrower dead from a well-aimed blaster bolt. Four on one weren't really fair odds, especially when one of them was a trigger-happy Republic soldier.

_Speaking of trigger-happy Republic soldiers._ . . she thought as she watched her companion hurry to her side.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" Carth muttered in an aside, hauling Amira to her feet.

"Yes, I'm fine," she confirmed quietly, shaking off the last of the dizziness, "At least we didn't come yesterday when I had a hangover."

"That would've been idiocy."

"Hey - we agree on something for the first time!"

One of the Beks coughed, and Amira turned to face their forced allies, fully aware that Carth was standing closer behind her than he normally would, most likely to catch her if she fell. _Keep waiting, 'cause that ain't gonna happen,_ she thought, irritated and tense.

_"Thanks, whoever you people are,"_ a Twi'lek said, _"We owe you. If there's a way to return the favour, let us know."_

_"Well, do you know anything about a Republic officer called Bastila?"_ Amira asked in his language, jumping on the opportunity.

_"She was taken by the Black Vulkars,"_ another Bek replied, then spat on the nearest corpse. _"Our leader, Gadon, will know more. Tell the door guard that Krayt said you could go in."_

_"Thanks,"_ Amira nodded and the Beks began to walk away.

"So we just got a ticket into the Bek base, but I want to explore some more," Amira said, "I'm not about to walk in there and make a fool of myself because I don't know the local situation."

"Fine."

"To the cantina!"

~.~.~

"Three!" A flash of light, then the sound of three blaster bolts followed by three grunts. Amira blinked as the light faded and saw the midget with the ridiculous hat holstering his heavily modified blaster. Three Black Vulkar corpses were sprawled on the grimy cantina floor.

"Ha, that was cool!" She snickered.

The short man stopped and said, "One." Amira frowned at him, confused, but held her hands up in a sign of surrender. "Smart." The midget left the cantina.

"Someone needs to let their hair down more often," Amira said lightly as if she hadn't just been threatened by a dwarf, "Still, don't mind me if I go nick some stuff from those Vulkars." Amira weaved her way through the crowd towards to bodies. Already other people were beginning to loot what they could, but Amira managed to snag a few credits and grenades. She made her way back to Carth.

"Well what now?" he asked.

"Find a table, order a drink then look around for anyone who might know anything. In that order."

Carth rolled his eyes, "This isn't leisure time, Amira!"

"Buying a drink tells the people around you that you aren't in a hurry and are willing to pay to get what you want. And I'll bet most of the people around here won't give any valuable information away for free," Amira replied, then turned and looked through the smoky air for a free table, "Aha, there's an empty table." She pushed through the crowd, and Carth didn't let his eyes leave her back from risk of losing the nimble woman. Amira sat down in one of the seats and propped her feet on the table. Carth sat down, with some hesitation.

"We should be gathering information, not getting drunk," he admonished.

"This is how I start investigations, Carth," she replied. "I see if I can eavesdrop on anyone. It's amazing how easily people gossip." Amira looked around, looking for nearby people and listening hard. The bustle of many people in one place reached her ears, thudding music, the groans and whoops of the people at the pazaak tables, the clanking of glass. _Oh come on! Someone has to be talking about something worth hearing!_

The growl of a Wookiee captured Amira and Carth's attention. They searched around until they saw a bright blue Twi'lek muttering to a Wookiee. Then the Twi'lek turned to some aliens that were obviously crowding her.

"If you've got a problem with me, then you've got a problem with Big Z. So unless you guys wanna take on my furry friend I suggest you greenies hop on outta here!" she said loudly, snickering quietly when the 'greenies' in question fled as quickly as they could. The Wookiee rumbled something then lumbered back to his unnaturally large plate of food. The Twi'lek followed and sat next to him.

"What entertainment – first that midget, now a teenage Twi'lek and a Wookiee faced down three Black Vulkars," Amira remarked, flagging a waitress and ordering a drink. "You want anything?" she asked Carth.

"I'm fine," he replied, not really wanting to buy liquor from a run-down cantina. The waitress left to get Amira's drink.

"I take it you're not from the Rim, then?" she queried.

"Not from the edge of the Rim, no," he replied brusquely, hoping to deter more questions, "You?"

"The very edge of known space," Amira replied with a slight smile. "And to think that I prefer the lonely planets with no name than this festering hole."

"I know there are plenty of places I'd rather be than here," he agreed.

The waitress brought Amira's drink. With a flourish of credits and a thank you, Amira took her drink. The alcohol burned her sinuses as she took a drink. "Hmm... tastes like engine fuel. What did I even buy? Oh well." She set her glass on the table.

"Well we've sat down, you've bought a drink so now it's time to gather information," Carth said impatiently.

"Okay," she agreed, "We need information on the general situation down here, the escape pods, Bastila and these Black Vulkars and Hidden Beks."

"Hey, I can help with that!" The blue Twi'lek from before was standing only six feet away.

"What impeccable timing you have," Amira replied with a smile.

"We saw you before. That was pretty impressive. You got a name, kid?" Carth asked.

"Mission Vao and my Wookiee friend is Zaalbar," she replied in a bubbly voice, "You guys must be new here, since I don't recognise you and I know pretty much everyone in the Lower City. Speaking of strangers, Zaalbar'd probably pitch a fit if I just sat down at a table with people I don't know. But oh well. I can take care of myself and he can see me anyway."

"Protective?" Amira asked, not taken aback by the girl's vibrant personality. She moved her boots off the table and slid over so Mission could sit next to her.

"Yeah, sometimes he forgets that I watch his back as much as he watches mine," the Twi'lek replied, taking the offered seat, "Now what was it you wanted to know again?"

"The situation of the Lower City, the Beks and Vulkars and the escape pods from the Republic ship," Carth said, "particularly about an officer named Bastila."

Mission told them all she knew on those topics.


	4. Negotiations

******Chapter 4 - Negotiations**

"Well, we better move," Mission said, standing up. "C'mon Zaalbar, let's go."

"Thanks for your help," Carth said.

"No probs. Lemme know if there's anything else we can help with. Cheerio!"

Once they were out of earshot, Carth noted to Amira, "Cheerful kid." She didn't reply, but he didn't hold it against her. He knew without looking at her that she was still peeved about Holdan. Yes, Amira hadn't slipped up and had been quite persuasive, but something he'd said or done had seriously ticked her off.

"We should probably move, too," he suggested, glancing at his companion. She was glaring vibroblades at the greasy table, but shrugged.

They stood and Amira flicked a few credits on the table, and then weaved between the other patrons to find the exit.

Carth knew better than to say even one word. Speaking would probably give her an excuse to lash out at anything or anyone, and Carth had an inkling that if she hurt him, she wouldn't regret it. Focus, he chided himself, and turned his attention to his surroundings.

This part of the Lower City wasn't too bad, compared to what they had seen so far. Two thirds of the lights provided near-consistent light, as opposed to the constant sporadically-flicking lights that had greeted them outside the elevator. However there seemed to be more stinking corpses and yellowed bones scattered around. Dried blood and carbon scoring decorated the already graffiti-covered walls. They turned the corner and immediately smelt blood and blaster burns. Carth's eyes zeroed in on the source: five recently killed bodies were scattered on the chipped permacrete.

Amira inspected the fresh batch of bodies. Some of the blaster burns were still smoking. Her next action didn't take Carth by surprise - she began rifling through the pockets and packs of the deceased. He kept his eyes roving over their surroundings, unofficially dubbing himself 'sentry'.

A small noise had Amira on her feet immediately. She rested one hand on a vibroblade and listened. The vague clinking turned into defined footsteps and boisterous alien words. Amira listened and caught the words _"Vulkars best..."_ along with _"Next female... gonna frack."_

Making a disgusted noise in the back of her throat, she drew both blades and took two clear steps back, coming closer to her companion. This surprised Carth. He didn't have Amira pegged as someone who would willingly give ground, even if it was a tactical retreat.

Amira glanced over her shoulder at him and suggested, "Grenades. And drop the armour." She unceremoniously dropped her own luggage and kicked it out of the way. Carth followed suit, then also grabbed a grenade and held it ready, a blaster in his off hand.

As they waited for their enemies, Amira adjusted her stance. She rose onto the balls of her feet and changed the position of her feet and weapons. Carth noticed that her new position was one that allowed her to jump away or start running easier.  
The footsteps and the voices floated closer. They were just around the corner.

Amira tensed.

The Vulkars stopped when they saw the two fighters waiting. A few stared at Amira and grinned.

_"What did you say, eh?"_ one said, elbowing another. _"Let's have some fun."_

Carth choked down the sudden anger and tossed the grenade. Amira threw herself back, knocking both of them to the ground and out of the path of flying shrapnel. Then she was up and bounding forward to the few remaining Vulkars. Even if they had been prepared, they would not have stood a chance against Amira's ferocious attacks.

All too quickly, the fight was over. Carth prowled over to his companion, surprised and unsurprised at her violent outburst. He had never seen her act like that before, but then it also seemed to fit in with what he had seen of her personality.

Heart pounding, breathing hard, Amira smirked in wicked satisfaction. She spat on the nearest corpse and wiped the blood splatters off her face with her sleeve. Carth reached her at that moment, his dark eyes filled with caution.

Contrary to her usual behaviour, Amira didn't loot the bodies of the fallen, just wiped her vibroblades on their clothing and stood up again. She went back to their packs with the Sith uniforms shoved in, slung one over her shoulder and handed the other to Carth.

"Shall we?" she asked, sheathing her blades.

"Ladies first," he replied neutrally, gesturing for Amira to go.

"What lady?" She snorted quietly, but started walking anyway.

_What lady indeed_, Carth thought as he fell in step behind her, the images of their recent fight plastered in his mind. Exactly what was it that had gotten her so angry? First there was Holdan, now the Vulkars. The similarities between the two were obvious - the way they viewed females as toys, objects for gratification.

_Well, Amira's reaction is understandable_, he thought. _Hell, even I got angry._

But Amira's fury was so stark against her usual demeanor, so foreign. Ice hadn't managed to provoke Amira the way Holdan did. Her reaction to the thugs in the Upper City was nothing compared to her rage against the Vulkars back there.

"I noticed you can be quite the charmer, but then you turn around and slaughter people without regret when needed. Almost like putting on a mask and taking it off," Carth commented, trying to sound idle.

Amira glanced back at him, appearing to be much less aggravated than before. She queried calmly, "Then I ask you: which one is the mask?" In truth, she didn't know herself.

Carth was silent.

They continued on without speaking to each other. The network of corridors, alleys and dead ends all contrived to look similar, but Amira's step never wavered as she led the way through the maze. Then for some reason, Amira's feet slowed as she approached a wall smothered in graffiti.

"What is it?" Carth asked, glancing between Amira and the wall. It seemed no different than the other walls they had passed, only that the scribbles weren't written completely over the top of another. Most of the words were written in several different alien languages, with only two or three being in Basic.

"Well that explains it," Amira muttered, tracing over a sentence written in Huttese. "We're on Bek turf. That's why the lights are in better condition, and an attempt has been made to try and keep the streets relatively clean."

"It's good to know we've been going in the right direction," Carth added.

"That too," she allowed.

They started walking again; sure they were getting close to the base of the Hidden Beks. They were finally rewarded when they turned a corner and saw a reinforced door at the dead end, along with turrets, security cameras and a dark-skinned female guard leaning against the door.

"Let me guess, you've come to see Gadon," the guard said in a bored voice.

Amira frowned slightly. "Well from your tone, I'd assume that 'yes' is the wrong answer."

She nodded. "The Beks' open door policy is long gone. Between the Vulkars and the Sith, Gadon has more enemies than he likes. We have to take precautions."

"Understandable," Amira replied politely.

Before she could continue, the guard butted in. "Look, I know you want to see Gadon -- he's the hero of the common folk. But he's busy and we don't have time for this."

"We aren't from around here," Amira said tightly. "You hear about that battle between the Republic ship and the Sith?" She didn't need to explain further, as the guard's eyes lit up, intuition putting two and two together. But it didn't have the effect Amira was hoping for - no 'Go right in.' Just a sharp nod for Amira to continue, and a still suspicious look. "Look, we helped out some of your fellow gang members and we were told we could come in by someone called Krayt... apparently."

The guard's face turned from suspicion to understanding. "Go in," she said, keying a code on the lock then standing aside. "Just remember to be on your best behaviour. And watch out for Gadon's security detail - she's feisty."

"Thank you," Amira said with a nod as she walked in. Carth nodded at the guard.

"Don't you think that was too easy?" he murmured as they walked into the entry hall. "As soon as you mentioned Krayt, she backed off."

"I know," she whispered back. "I've been thinking about what 'Krayt' said. I think it's not his name, but some sort of code they have going."

Carth nodded. It made sense.

They turned their attention to their surroundings as they walked into the main room. It was like being sucked into one of the Upper City apartments. The room was most likely the cleanest room in the Lower City, with the exception of the floor and the room's occupants. Men and women sporting the Beks' colours either walked purposefully through several doorways that connected the rest of the base to the entry, or loitered and chatted with friends. Only a few looked up at the strangers, most just ignored them.  
Amira scanned the room for a sign of where to go next. She spotted a small turret next to a large desk, and a dark-skinned man behind it. A twitchy Twi'lek guard confirmed Amira's suspicions. She nudged Carth with her heel and they carefully approached the desk.

"Stop!" the Twi'lek hissed, drawing her blaster. "State you name and your business!"

Amira kept her eyes on the Twi'lek's face, waiting for a tick of some sort to start. She didn't notice the man looked ready to step into the spat. "I'm Amira and this is Carth. We came to get information on the Republic escape pods as repayment for saving the lives of some of your comrades."

She pursed her lips and considered for a moment. "Very well," the Twi'lek replied grudgingly, though her hand tightened on her weapon. "But try anything and you'll be dead before you can say 'Vulkar spy'!"

Carth kept his eyes on her blaster. "I don't doubt that, ma'am."

"Zaerdra, calm down," the man ordered. Amira got her first good look at him as he put his bodyguard back in her place. He was bald with a black moustache and goatee, and was wearing some of the finest quality armour Amira had ever seen. She also noted with some surprise his eyes were the pearly colour of ocular implants.

He returned her stare calmly. "You'll have to forgive Zaerdra; she takes her duty very seriously. And with the added threats of the Vulkars and the Sith..."

"It's understandable," Carth replied. Amira didn't know if he was being genuine. "You're the leader of the resistance against the Vulkars."

"So, you two came here looking for information on the Republic escape pods?" Gadon asked. At Amira's confirmation, he continued, "Well, what I know won't hurt my gang, but it will hurt the Vulkars. . . When those pods crashed, the Black Vulkars were first on the scene - they even beat the Sith there. And out of the pods they found a few soldiers. Now, we Beks don't believe in slavery, but the Vulkars aren't so choosy. They took all of the Republics they could find that weren't bitten by rakghouls, and have offered one of them up as the Vulkars share of the prize for the Tarisian Season Opener."

"Who?" asked Carth.

"An officer called Bastila," Gadon replied, and resisted a smile at Amira and Carth's reactions. _These two will do well_, he thought.

"So," Amira said, "since you're a swoop gang I have a hunch the Beks will participate in the Opener."

"Indeed," Gadon answered with a small, sly smile. "If we win, we get your friend. If we lose, the Beks will be annihilated and the Vulkars will take over the Lower City in this entire sector."

"Okay, so it's not a good idea to rely on the Season Opener to get Bastila back," Carth deduced. "What else is there?"

Amira asked, "Can we find Bastila before the race? The Vulkars would lose a strong foothold if they lost their share of the prize."

Gadon shook his head. "Bastila won't be at the Vulkar base - he wouldn't trust her with the scum there. No, she'll be locked away at one of his secret safe houses, impossible to find before the race."

Amira cocked her head on the side. Gadon's behaviour didn't match their topic. Rather than being sombre and disillusioned at their lack of options, he looked like he was planning something. "You have something in mind," she deduced. "Something that requires our allegiance to the Beks to complete."

"Clever," he praised. "Yes, I have a way to get your friend back and put the Hidden Beks ahead in the war. It doesn't require you joining us, though."

"Let me guess," Amira said, "Carth and I are going to have to jump through hoops and still rely on winning the Taris Opener to get Bastila."

Gadon chuckled. "You're very sharp, aren't you?"

"I have my moments. What is it you want us to do?"

"My technicians were working on a prototype accelerator for a swoop bike," Gadon explained. "Somehow the Vulkars were able to steal it. If you two get it back, I'll go one better and let either of you ride in the modified swoop. I'm sure you would prefer that to standing on the sidelines," he added with a pointed look. Amira nodded.

"So how do we get in the Vulkar base?" Carth asked, assuming that was where the engine was. "Something tells me the front door is out."

"Correct," Gadon affirmed. "However there is a back way through the sewers. If you find Mission Vao--"

"Mission?!" Zaerdra gasped. "Gadon, you can't be serious! She's just a kid!"

"A kid who knows the Lower and Under cities better than we do," Gadon replied calmly before turning back to Amira and Carth.

"We've met Mission and Zaalbar," Carth said.

Gadon nodded. "Good. She knows the way to the back entrance. Then you just make your way up, take the engine and come back. Do we have a deal?"

Amira frowned. There was one thing that still didn't add up. "I have a question: why haven't you already sent Beks to reclaim the accelerator?"

"Because my men are already stretched thin and it is dangerous in the sewers," Gadon answered flatly.

"Figures," Amira muttered, and then looked at Carth. "Carth? You willing to do this?"

"We don't have a choice," he pointed out.

"We have a choice, it's just that one damns the Lower City and the galaxy," Amira replied cheekily. Then she turned back to the leader of the Hidden Beks. "Okay, Gadon, we're in."

Gadon's mouth stretched into a victorious grin. "Excellent! We both have much to gain and much to lose, but I think you can pull this off." He held out his hand to shake.  
Zaerdra looked like she was about to have a stroke as Amira, then Carth shook hands with Gadon. Her beady eyes followed their hands, searching for any concealed weapons.

"We'll be back with that engine," Amira promised. "Feel free to start dinner without us if we're not back at six." She shot the leader a smile and a sloppy salute, then turned and strode out of the Bek base, Carth beside her. As soon as they were past the door guard, her pleasant expression slipped off, revealing a more serious Amira.

"Well, I suppose that could've gone worse," she sighed. "How did I know we were going to have to jump through hoops? Why in the nine Corellian hells can't there be neon signs pointing to that Jedi?"

"Because that would make it too easy," Carth replied.


	5. Elevator Music

**Chapter 5 - Elevator Music**

Amira and Carth wandered through the labyrinth of streets; trying to first get out of Bek territory then secondly to find the elevator to the Undercity.

A voice shouted in Basic behind them, "Hey, wait!"

They turned to see a female human in Bek colours running towards them. "Gadon forgot to mention that you need Sith papers to get past the elevator guard," she panted.

"Sith uniforms won't work?" Amira guessed.

The brunette shook her head. "No. But we'll trade uniforms for the papers - you'll still be able to use the Upper City elevator."

"How do you know we have uniforms?" Carth asked, his suspicion rising.

"Well, she just gave it away," the Bek said, jerking her head in Amira's direction. "And I saw some silver in your packs... which are coming undone, by the way."

"Sith papers beats Sith uniforms," Amira said, sick of lugging around such a cumbersome thing. She, flyboy dropped her pack onto the grimy permacrete with a _clunk_. Amira saw for herself the Bek was right - the straps holding her pack closed were nearly completely undone, with the Sith breastplate struggling to see the light again. To save as much space as possible, Amira and Carth had stuffed the breastplates with the gauntlets, greaves and anything else that would fit. Evidently such thoughtful use of space hadn't been enough.

"Could you show us the papers?" Amira requested. She just wanted to check the papers were legit, or well-forged enough to get them past the guard.

"Sure," she replied, pulling out a datapad. Without relinquishing her grip on it, she allowed Amira and Carth to read over the contents.

"I'm sold," Amira said, giving the armour a kick for good measure. Carth swung his own pack off his back and held it out to the Bek in silent agreement.

"Great!" the Bek cheered, tossing the datapad to Amira. She accepted the pack from Carth, and then bent down to retrieve the one on the ground. "See you guys later!"

"Bye," Amira called after the girl, who was already jogging off with her prizes.

"I'm glad trying to get that damned armour to fit in out packs meant that everything else had to find a place on us," Carth commented. "Otherwise she would just have run off with our med packs and credits."

"Very true," Amira concurred. "Let's go."

~.~.~

Much to Amira and Carth's relief, the Sith papers were legitimate. The elevator guard let them pass with a few blunt and vulgar words on how he didn't envy them. Resisting the urge to deck the Sith, Amira pulled Carth into the elevator before he could reply and pressed the 'down' button.

The woman settled herself in for a long ride, and then glanced over at her companion. With a slight smile, she asked, "Will we continue from our last elevator conversation?"

"There's nothing more to say," he replied, face stony.

She snorted delicately. "Hardly, I barely know you and I'm sure you have an interesting background." Amira decided she would start with the easy stuff, like his history, then move on to the more sensitive topic of his paranoia. Hopefully she would get an idea as to why Carth was so damn cautious from him divulging his past.

"Well it might be a bit easier to talk if I knew you a bit more," he replied, hoping to steer the conversation away from him.

"Yeah, whatever," she said, shrugging. "I was a smuggler for five years. Some of my talents include: diplomacy, being a smartass, having an aptitude for alien languages, pissing people off, slicing into some places, fixing machines, fighting in several styles and so on."

"And on your profile, didn't it say something 'bout being married?"

Amira blinked blankly, and then laughed as she remembered. "Oh, that's just a little joke I played. Everyone believed that I have a husband somewhere in the galaxy, and I'm not even wearing a ring!"

"You _lied__?_" His whole posture radiated extreme disapproval.

"Yep," she asserted, then held up a hand to forestall any comment, "because it's so much easier to discourage. . . shall we say 'unwanted admirers', by saying you're taken." She smiled winningly.

Carth was silent for a few minutes, thinking over what she'd said. He knew she'd been brought aboard for her translation skills and her experience, and most of the talents she'd listed had been on her file. The smartass and pissing people off bits Carth had learned from experience. "Wait a minute," he objected, "you didn't tell me a thing I didn't already know!"

Amira looked torn between dismay and being impressed. She settled for a nonchalant, "You're quick."

He scowled. "How can you question me endlessly about myself and then give me the vaguest answer possible when I ask about _you__?_"

She didn't think as she snapped, "Because it's none of your concern!"

Carth sprang on the opening. "Yeah, well how do you think I feel, sister?"

Amira blinked and cursed quietly. She'd walked right into that one. _And usually I pride myself in being the winner of verbal sparring_, she groused. _I suppose he has a point. . . bloody soldier. . ._

She knew she was being a hypocrite - bugging him endlessly about his secrets and then hoarding her own. They were similar in that regard, as both wanted to know about the other but weren't willing to divulge their own past. Amira didn't appreciate the comparison. Empathy and stubbornness waged war in her as she leaned against the durasteel wall, staring into space.

"Fine," she said, trying to keep her voice even. "I was born on Deralia, a farming planet on the Outer Rim. I was the middle child - two younger brothers and an older brother and sister. One of my younger brothers, Iyas, was killed in an accident on the farm." Amira kept her eyes on the durasteel wall, but other than that showed no signs of grief or distress. She barely felt the hurt anymore. "Couple a remote planet with limited medical supplies. He didn't stand a chance."

Carth simply stared at her, shocked she was actually telling him anything about herself, let alone the tragedy in her family.

Amira either didn't notice his expression or didn't care. "A few years later the Mandalorians attacked. My oldest brother, Force-damned idiot that he was, sacrificed himself so we could get to safety." She shook her head incredulously, as if she still didn't believe it.

"Why do you call him an idiot?" Carth asked. "He's the reason you're alive today."

She shook her head again. "He didn't have to do that for us - throw away everything like that. Out of all of us, Junayd had the most - the best grades, the prettiest girlfriend, the best aptitude for mechanics. He even had an offer for a well-paying job."

"Would you have died protecting him and your siblings if you could?"

Amira's answer was immediate. "Of course."

"Then don't demean your brother for it," Carth advised. Then he prodded her to continue, "So what happened after that?"

Amira pursed her lips, evidently thinking over his words, and then spoke again. "Ma got sick and she never really recovered from it - I think it was more from losing two children than the pneumonia that was going around. I finished school, but I stuck around on the farm. We lost two strong boys, so Pa needed all the help he could get. Then Ma died, and he began to sell off some of the property. I figured he wouldn't need my help anymore so I left Deralia and traveled a bit until I fell in with my smuggling partners when I was twenty three. Then a few months ago we got captured by you Republics. And that's full circle."

Amira lifted her eyes to his, her expression just daring him to pity her. Silence reigned in the elevator, except for the whirring of gears. Both of them were thinking over both their conversation.

Absently, she reached into her boot or her hidden vibrodagger and equally mindlessly tossed it into the air.

"What the hell are you _doing__?_" Carth demanded as her nimble white hand snatched at it.

"Fiddling with a potentially lethal object while I think," Deadpan. Amira threw it up again.

"You know there's a good possibility of one of us getting hurt, especially if the elevator jerks to a stop," he pointed out angrily.

"What's life without a bit of risk-taking," she replied breezily, catching the blade between two of her fingers and ignoring the shade of red his face was becoming.

"You're an idiot," he growled softly.

"And you're exceedingly annoying, so we're square," she answered, shifting her grip and tossing it up again.

Carth grumbled under his breath, and Amira smiled infuriatingly. The rest of the trip in the elevator was silent.

As the elevator grounded to a halt, Amira sheathed her vibrodagger; a movement she would regret four seconds later.

"Hey, this is our elevator!" a ratty teen-aged boy waiting just outside the elevator door shouted. "If you use the elevator, you have to pay a toll!"

"I don't believe this planet," Carth muttered incredulously. "Even the beggars are trying to shake us down!"

"Five credits!" a second boy called. "That's the toll!"

"You know, if you just asked, I would be more inclined to give you something," Amira informed them coldly. "If you're going to be jackasses, no one will part with even five measly credits."

"You don't know what it's like down here," the first one moaned, obviously switching to his next tactic. "There's no light, no food and little water. It's such a wretched existence we live, yet you'll be so callous as to deny us a few credits?"

"The lady is so very cruel," the second agreed.

Amira was unmoved, but she was spared from a response by another person shouting, "HEY!"

A girl a few years older than the two boys ran up to them. "You two should be ashamed of yourselves! Go on, get out of here!"

The two teenagers promptly ran off.

"I'm sorry about those two, they give everyone in the village a bad name," she apologised. "I'm Shaleena."

Amira replied honestly, "I'm Amira and this is Carth."

"Nice to meet you," he said.

Amira glanced over the girl. She looked about seventeen, and like the two boys she was gaunt and dressed in rags. Under the layer of dirt over her from head to toe, she was probably pale-skinned from a lack of sunlight and her lank hair could have been black or dark brown. Shaleena began to walk away and gestured for the newcomers to follow her.

"Most of us are good people," she said, then sighed. "I wish those two would stop trying to pickpocket everyone that comes down here."

"So if they couldn't get credits out of us by intimidation or sympathy, they would have tried to steal them?" Carth asked.

"Yes," Shaleena replied, looking down. "They may try again, using an apology as an excuse to get close to your purses."

"We'll be on guard," Amira promised. "But someone should really pound it into their heads that stealing is a no-no - the only other people that come down here are no doubt armed and ready to kill someone who tries to pickpocket them."

"Yes," Shaleena agreed. "That is my fear. I've talked to Gendar, but he is too busy looking out for the village as a whole to focus on individuals."

"Figures," Carth muttered.

"Shaleena, have you seen a Wookiee and a blue Twi'lek around?" Amira asked.

"Mission and Zaalbar?"

Amira nodded. "Yep, those two."

"No, not for a week or so," she answered. "Sorry."

Amira shook off the girl's apology and then asked, "So how do we get to the sewers?"

Shaleena pointed and replied, "The gate out of the village is that way. Then there are a few different sewer entries, but they all link in a labyrinth."

Amira smiled and tossed fifty credits at the girl. "Thanks for your help, Shaleena." She swore she heard Carth mutter 'generous' under his breath.

They started in the direction Shaleena had pointed while the girl stared in shock at the credit chip in her grimy palm.

"W-wait!" Carth and Amira stopped and turned around. "If I could ask. . ." Shaleena trailed off.

"Yes?" Carth verbally nudged her to continue.

"Well. . . if you two are from the up-world, is it really as beautiful as they say? To see the sky and the sun. . ."

"If you can ignore the attitudes of the people living in the Upper City, it's quite a pretty place," Amira replied. "But there are certainly more beautiful places to visit." The black-haired woman then spent the next few minutes describing the Upper City, then some of the more spectacular places she'd visited.

Carth had noticed previously she had a way around people, but the charisma that flowed off her as she wove tapestries with her words was nearly astounding, especially for a smuggler. He felt his suspicion of her growing - it could not have been coincidence this farm girl-turned-smuggler just happened to survive the Sith attack on the _Endar Spire_.

"Thank you, up-worlder," Shaleena said, gratitude shining in her eyes. "You don't know how much your words mean - I have never seen the sun in my life."

"No problem," Amira said. With a sloppy salute she turned and was back on track towards the gate.

As they neared the gate, they saw there was some sort of commotion. Amira and Carth both sped up.

A panicked woman gripped the bars of the gate as she screamed to a sprinting man, "Hurry, Hendar! Run!"

A man who was obviously the gate guard sighed. "He'll never make it. Argh, he was a fool!"

"Don't say that," the woman snapped, then resumed her encouraging. "Come on, Hendar! They're coming!"

Blood-chilling howls rent the air.

The man, Hendar, slammed into the gate. "Open the gate! Now!"

The guard glanced behind Hendar at some indistinct white blobs in the gloom. He faltered. "I can't, the rakghouls are too close."

"No!" the woman shrieked, and then pushed her arm between the bars to clutch at Hendar.

Amira and Carth shared a glance. Snarls rose up with the howls, weaving in a grotesque mockery of music.

"Open the gate," Carth commanded. "We'll fight the rakghouls."

The guard stared at them incredulously. "Be quick." He pressed a button and the gate swung open.

Carth and Amira surged forward, drawing their weapons. Amira shoved Hendar to safety right before the gates snapped shut.

"Keep back to back and only kill those that get in range," the guard advised.

Carth and Amira obeyed his advice as the luminescent splotches drew nearer and gained shape.

"I only just realised how mismatched we are - two vibroblades and two blasters," Amira commented, her pulse beginning to race.

Carth grunted.

The beasts were ungainly on four legs, a testament to their former figures, but carried themselves with inhuman speed. The rakghouls were on them moments later.

Amira's world shrunk to killing anything white that got within range. However, she quickly realised how stupid it was to fend off the monsters with two vibroblades. Amira speared a charging rakghoul with one blade and let go. Using one weapon proved easier - she could now thrust harder and kill them quicker. Plus she didn't have to co-ordinate two vibroblades while being swarmed.  
Amira held her vibroblade out straight, spearing the last rakghoul as it sprang at her. She glanced around for any more enemies, and then let out a breath.

"Thank you so much!" Hendar called, cradling the woman in his arms. "If you hadn't been here, I would have been dead."

"You're welcome," Carth answered.

"Don't talk like that," the woman murmured, clutching herself tighter to him. She glanced over at Carth an Amira and thanked them fervently, before turning back to Hendar and saying, "Come, let's go."

Carth, Amira and the guard watched the content couple walk away.

"Brave," the guard commented. "I didn't figure two up-worlders would save one of our lives."

"Not all of us are happy to watch an innocent man get slaughtered," Amira replied, somewhat irritated at his stereotype, "Especially while his lady looks on."

"It was a good deed you did," the guard agreed. "Now you should probably complete what you came to do quickly."

Carth nodded while Amira kicked the corpses off her vibroblades and sheathed one without bothering to clean it.

Both tried their best not to look at the dead bodies on the slimy earth as they turned to figure out which way to go. Neither wanted to inspect the monstrosities nor notice trace amounts of humanity retained through the mutation.

"Let's go find Mission and Zaalbar," Amira said, walking off in random direction. Carth kept pace with her, eyes looking everywhere.

It quickly appeared the Undercity wasn't as bereft of up-worlders as would be expected. Body parts and corpses ranging from a few hours old to a few weeks littered the ground, and blaster fire could be heard occasionally.

Amira let her eyes range over the uneven ground. She wasn't sure exactly when her eyes had adjusted to the gloom of the Undercity - probably while they had been talking with Shaleena. Her sense of smell, on the other hand, was just as clear as ever. Amira wrinkled her nose as she caught a particularly bad waft of rancid flesh, bodily fluids and other things best not mentioned in polite company.

As they continued, a strange feeling began to curl in her stomach. There was next to no light - the only brightness was formed from small holes in the roof or the rare sporadically-flickering lights. However, one could argue it was better to be blind to the squalor. She felt that the horror, the stench, the knowledge people spent entire lives in misery down here were all stripping away her skin, leaving her naked to the hell called the Undercity.

Her hands tightened around the hilt of her vibroblade. Instinctive defiance rose within Amira. She refused to be defenceless, refused to let this place erode the steely core of her being. In the darkness, her eyes glared around, challenging anything that would try to break her.

A noise had her swing her blade up at a young man.

He raised his blaster shakily. "Stop!" he cried. She could see the whites of his eyes too easily. "If you come closer I swear I'll shoot!"

"Stand down," a gruff voice commanded. A hand smacked the man's blaster arm away, none-too-gently. "I've lost enough men already."

Amira lowered her vibroblade but didn't sheath it. She wondered how the men could get so close without her noticing, and stifled a shiver upon thinking how easily rakghouls could have stalked them. She scanned her eyes over the men melting out of the gloom. Four of them were nondescript mercenaries that looked like they were about to fill their pants, if they hadn't already done so. Panic and adrenaline had left a visible mark on all four of them. Everyone had scratches on their armour, blood dripping from some wound or another and had a fairly empty pack slung over their shoulders.

The leader however, looked much more imposing. He was the type of person, at six feet with thick bands of muscle encircling his body, which gave the word 'mercenary' proper meaning. Despite the fact that he didn't look like he was wearing any armour, Amira was sure there was something protective weaved into his dark red vest and thick trousers. A dark tattoo wound its way around one shoulder. Not many people would have his look of ease and confidence, and Amira speculated that he must be very experienced, or had a death wish. A heavy repeating blaster the size of a small turret rested in his ready hands. Again, Amira's intuition flickered. She began to mix the tattoo with the heavy weaponry and continued speculating and observing. His graying hair was trimmed in a simple buzz cut. Small scars were scattered over his face. The man's face was sharp and chiseled, with eyes as cold and hard as permacrete. Impenetrable.

_No_, Amira realised. His eyes weren't completely uncaring. They were _bored_.

Not only that, but her mind triumphantly clicked the last puzzle piece together and flaunted the finished conundrum. The leader was a Mandalorian. She gave a single nod to the leader then continued on, hoping Carth would follow her and not make a scene.

"You should go back," the leader said, holding out his arm so she couldn't pass.

"And why is that, pray tell?" she asked.

"Because if you're here to scavenge the escape pods, they've already been stripped clean, if you're here to try and capture a Sith, there's a whole squad and they're sticking together. If you're here to explore, there's more rakghouls than normal," he answered coldly.

"Well, there's only one flaw with your explanation, Mandie," Amira said, "and that's we're here for none of those reasons. So just move your ass along and leave us be. "

Silence fell between the two groups. The Mandalorian stared at her in disbelief, as if he was shocked she had the audacity to say that to him. His cronies were definitely in that category. Amira glared at the Mandalorian and he glared back.

When her hand began to lift her vibroblade into a ready posture, he snorted and let his arm fall to his side. "Your funeral," he said, then turned away. He regrouped his men, and then they began to walk back to the elevator, their packs filled with loot.

Amira took three steps then turned around again. "Wait!" she called.

"What are you doing?" Carth hissed.

Amira ignored him and continued, "Bet on the Hidden Beks at the Tarisian Opener!" She didn't wait to see the Mandalorian's reaction, just turned around and began moving again.

"What did you do that for?" Carth berated. "The bucket head is smart - you've just told him what we're going to do!"

"Hush, Carth," Amira said. "That was my good-faith gift so he won't try and murder me later."

"And how can you be sure it worked?" he asked sceptically.

"Because my good-faith gift was my apology," she answered patiently. "Besides, you have to stand up to Mandalorians or else they won't respect you. I'm not sure, but I'd guess I impressed him because I was willing to cross him. You saw the guys with him - they were terrified, both of the rakghouls _and_ him."

Carth would have continued the argument, but rakghoul howls pierced the air. Rakghoul howls that were _too close_.

Amira had barely enough time to lift her vibroblade before the white mutants jumped down and attacked. She abandoned all forms of tact and slashed at the rakghouls when they got too close. Blaster bolts whizzed past her to hit the mutants, most missing her only by a few inches.

"Look out!"

Amira half-turned to slash at the white blur in the air. Then the world spun, a hard thump, and she was grappling with another rakghoul.

The next moments were terrifying. Snarls. Saliva. Hands slipping on oily skin.

Then the rakghoul crumpled on top of her. Dead from the shot she hadn't heard.

Carth ran over to her and pushed the dead beast off her. Amira was too dazed to notice him grab her left wrist and full her up frantically.

"Hey!" he said sharply, snapping her back into reality. "Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" Amira snapped breathlessly. She knew she had to look disheveled with rakghoul saliva on her shirt and her entire back covered dirt and slime.

Carth looked her over, coming to similar conclusions. Then his eyes zeroed in on her arm, the one he was still gripping. "You're hurt. . ." he breathed.

Amira blinked, confused. As if on cue, she became aware of a sharp pain in her left forearm.

She examined her arm, blanching.

"Oh, _shit_."


	6. Undercity Horrors

_Author's Notes:_ A _huge_ thank you to the kind people that have reviewed. To the slackos that haven't bothered. . . I'm not going to post the next chappie until I get at least five reviews for _this chapter_. Also (shameless self-advertisement here) I now have a deviantArt account. Same username. I have a picture of Amira up there in case anyone is interested.

Edit: after an insightful review by MyrddinEmrys3, I have modified this chapter so Amira isn't 'kill me now' one minute and 'I don't want to die' the next for no reason at all.

**Chapter 6 - Undercity Horrors**

Amira tried to jerk her arm out of Carth's grip, but he held on tight.

"You've been bitten." Carth couldn't keep the horror out of his voice, staring at the broken skin smothered in blood and thick, pearly venom.

"Oh, no, really? I didn't notice." Amira's sarcasm was marred by her fear. She could already feel the poison in her system, coursing sluggishly under her skin.

"Well, we'll just have to find the cure, won't we?" he said, regaining his control, though barely. He had absolutely zero intentions of letting Amira die, even if he didn't trust or particularly like the ex-smuggler.

"And if we don't?" she challenged, finally ripping her arm out of his grasp.

"We will," Carth replied firmly, turning to walk off. Amira caught his arm just before he moved away, turning him back around.

"I. . . If we can't get the cure in time, I. . . I want you to shoot me," Amira stated.

"Don't talk like that!" Carth snapped.

"Consider it. . . as– as a mercy-killing. I'm sure I won't mind," she insisted.

"_Amira!_"

"Onasi, I want you to promise right now. A backup plan. I don't want to infect anyone else, and surely shooting me would be the kindest thing to do?" Amira stared into his eyes, and Carth saw that she was, in fact, terrified.

He hesitated, torn. He really didn't want to be responsible for the death of an ally, but he also knew that Amira was right. A few minutes passed, silence settling on them.

"Please? As a. . . last wish or something?" she pleaded.

Carth scowled. "We'll see how this plays out."

Amira nodded, satisfied, and let him go. She ripped a strip of material from the hem of her dark green shirt and tied it in a rough tourniquet around her arm. Crude, yes, but done in the hope that it would not only slow her blood flow, but also slow down the venom's spreading to buy them enough time. The cynical part of her mind laughed at her silly little act. What was the point of pretending it was a simple poisonous animal bite? That she wasn't going to lose herself in every possible way before being condemned to turning into a complete and total monster? Amira resisted the urge to roll her eyes at herself. _It hasn't been ten minutes and I'm going insane_, she thought dryly. It was as much of an act as the tourniquet, she knew; a coping measure to try and bring some brevity to the situation. Just a flicker of hope to light the smothering, dark shroud of despair. _Carth should've shot me_, she continued. Her mouth twisted in a disgusted grimace.

They started off again, this time looking for Sith with the antidote.

Carth watched his stricken companion out of the corner of his eye. She was getting worse as time wore on. There was a sheen of sweat on every part of her skin, her jaw was clenched against the unpleasant feeling of the venom coursing through her veins, and she twitched occasionally. As time passed, those spasms worsened; becoming more and more frequent.

Carth tried to mentally tabulate how long it had been since she had been bitten, but with a lack of sunlight or any other visible markers, it was hard to tell the passage of time. It could have been only five minutes ago just back around the bend, or it could have been three hours and they had been wandering for miles. Their surroundings were so dull; so infuriatingly bland that he couldn't tell which way was which any more. _Where are the Sith when you need them?_ he scowled. It was only a moment later that he realized what he'd just thought; a second before it hit him. It was sheer irony that he actually needed the Sith to cure something big. And of course, Carth had never believed he'd see a day when he'd need the Sith for anything at all.

Another pack of rakghouls charged at them, snarling and shrieking. Amira hissed and angrily felled the first beast. She ducked in front of Carth to slash at another about to leap on him, and used the momentum to sink her blade into the neck of a third. Bestial instincts surged up, taking Amira completely by surprise. They took over her body, driving her to drop her blade and fight like a savage. All too soon the fight was over and Amira stood there, shivering.

Slowly, she recovered herself and picked up her fallen vibroblade as an excuse not to look at Carth. She didn't want to see any of his emotions -- no pity or disgust or fear. Hell, she didn't even have to look at him to know what he was thinking.

"Let's keep moving," Carth ordered, gesturing for her to go first.

Amira noticed he wasn't willing to have her at his back. She forgot the practicality of the melee fighter taking point as the knot of angry emotions rose. Amira stood her ground. "Why? What's the fracking point? We both know that if we haven't found Sith already, then we're not going to now."

"So that's it? You're just going to give up and die?" Carth demanded.

She raised her chin in a show of pride and defiance. But then Amira curled her lips back and hissed.

Carth stared, gripping on his blasters with white knuckles until he was sure she wasn't about to mutate. "You done yet?" he snapped, then grabbed her arm and shoved her roughly forward.

Amira blinked and shook her head to try and clear the haze that had settled in the last twenty seconds. A futile gesture. The fog thinned, as if Amira had waved it away with an arm, but only fled to the edges of her mind. She was painfully aware of it's lingering presence as she finished recovering herself.

_Not good_, Amira thought as she dropped the argument and took point. It was strange -- not twenty minutes ago she had wanted to die, the shock of being bitten smothering her normal defiance. But now it had worn off enough that she _didn't_ want to die. But somehow she suspected that she wasn't going to stay like this. Amira believed sometime soon, the pendulum would swing the other way and she would be feeling suicidal again.

As they traveled further into the recesses of the Undercity, Amira found her concentration on the surroundings fading. Instead, Amira became hyper-aware of her body. Every bead of sweat clinging to her skin was like a drop of ice. The two stray locks of hair that framed her face felt slimy in their dampness; like Manaan sea eels. Amira shoved the two locks behind her ears impatiently. She could feel something crawling underneath her skin, as if tiny kinrath were crawling across her muscles. It was highly distracting and extremely unpleasant. Amira resisted the urge to scratch her arm, knowing she probably wouldn't stop until she had ripped her own skin off.

Amira wrenched herself back into reality, trying to thrust the unwelcome feelings to the back of her mind. She focused at the wrong moment. They had both stopped automatically near an escape pod. The trails in the mud and the copious amounts of blood told a story neither wanted to see. Not far off, a disfigured and bloodless corpse slumped against a wall.

Amira looked at Carth, more for something to do, something to distract her, than anything else. His face was twisted in a regretful grimace, most likely lamenting the needless slaughter of almost the entire crew of the _Endar Spire_. Then Carth shook his head and rested his hands on his blasters for comfort as he gestured for her to start moving again. Amira obeyed without a fight this time.

A low pounding began in her skull, rhythmic and steady and in-time with the unpleasant crawling sensation under her skin. A timer of how long she had left; counting down until the infection had completed its work.

_Thump thump thump thump._

Over the next few minutes the beating increased in strength.

The fog swirled around her mind, making concentration on even the simplest things a difficult task. The messages from her senses to her brain felt as if they were coming from a great distance as her vision hazed into indistinct blurs. Amira was dimly aware of her body going into panic mode. Fight or flight.

She couldn't feel her body, couldn't control herself, couldn't do anything as something rushed to the surface of her consciousness. There was a dizzying motion of blurs--

--then a hard thunk brought her back. Carth, wide eyed and panting. Her pinned between him and a wall. A snarl rumbling from nearby. Amira realized that she was the one growling and cut herself off, eyes widening further.

She saw shock and fear reflecting in his whiskey eyes. A mirror image of her own.

"Still don't want to shoot me?" she snarked, a desperate challenge so Carth would just _end it_.

He seemed speechless for a moment, still in shock from her attack. Then Carth returned to himself and shook his head, either to clear it or to say 'no' again, Amira wasn't sure. He scanned her features, looking for any sign she might lose control again or that her mutation was coming soon.

Apparently satisfied with what he saw, Carth carefully let her go.

Amira looked around, surprised he had released her so quickly and quietly horrified at what had just happened. "It won't be long now," she muttered with as much attitude she could muster. Which, surprisingly, was a fair amount. Amira wasn't ready to die, not in the slightest, but she wasn't going to beg Carth again, the way she had after first being infected. There was no honor in it. No pride.

"Come on," Carth ordered, hauling her off the wall.

She cringed an hissed like an angry kinrath at his touch, but Carth only flinched and finished pulling her up. Then they were walking again, towards what, or for what purpose, Amira didn't know. She wondered if Carth wasn't accepting she was going to die horribly and was chasing an illusion of hope because even _if_ she was an infuriating woman, he didn't want another death on his hands. After reviewing his behaviour -- the guilt in the Upper City cantina, the frustration at having to find Bastila, the pain he obviously felt at losing an entire ship full of loyal soldiers -- she was sure he was the type of person that took every loss personally.

A strange rhythmic thudding reached Amira's ears, separate from the pounding in her skull, and she cocked her head on the side curiously. She took a few seconds to check if it was merely in her head, or was a real sound. Amira looked at Carth and watched until he began to slow down.

"Do you hear that?" he asked, glancing at her.

"The thumping?" At Carth's nod, she continued, "I started hearing it a minute ago."

Amira closed her eyes and listened closely, ignoring the dull burning that was beginning to creep through her veins. First discomfort and now fire. How much worse was it going to get? She wrenched her mind away from the topic of her infected body and focused on the thumping. It sounded much closer now, and she could hear ragged panting accompanying it.

"It's close," she whispered, hefting her vibroblade.

Carth nodded and rounded the corner. A blue blur collided with him, and they both fell to the ground in a head of limbs and curses.

Amira took a step forward, leaning into a half-crouch, but then reined herself in and kept her distance. She watched tensely as Carth and the blue she now recognised as Mission untangled themselves from each other. If she hadn't currently been fighting a lethal disease, she would have laughed at the both of them.

The two finally got up and Carth brushed as much muck off himself as he could. Mission didn't bother, instead going into panicked-teenager mode.

"Carth! Th-They took him! Big Z! They took Big Z! You gotta help me!" Her brown eyes filled with tears as she let out a sob.

"Hey," he said awkwardly, gently placing a hand on her shaking shoulder. "Start from the beginning: where were you and what happened?"

"We were just exploring the sewers -- w-we do it all the time! But this time they were waiting for us. Gammorrean slavers! Big Z screamed at me to run; I took off and thought he was right behind me. But they got him!" the girl explained in a hurry, then begged, "Please, help me get Big Z back."

Carth took a deep breath and sighed. "We would, Mission, but we have a big problem on our hands." He looked around for Amira and found her standing twelve paces back, her face contorted from some inner battle.

Mission followed his gaze and gasped. She knew the signs -- it was all too obvious to someone who had seen the ravages of the rackghoul plague too many times. "S-she got bitten! When?!"

"I didn't keep track of the time," Amira snapped, folding her arms defensively.

It was a good sign to the girl -- that she was still human enough to do something like that. It also showed the Twi'lek the weeping bite mark. Mission forced herself to concentrate through her panic, to focus on the matter at hand. It couldn't have been more than four hours since she and Zaalbar had come from the cantina, and she knew these two spacers hadn't followed them immediately. Which meant the venom had been in Amira's system for less than four hours. She sighed in relief, despite the fact more tears were spilling over her cheeks.

"U-under four hours -- that's good," she said, voice breaking once. Then she got a better control of herself and continued in a less teary voice. "But lucky for you, I got the antidote!"

Amira's eyes lit up, long-forgotten hope colouring her face. "You have it? Where is it?"

She took a step forward, but Mission held up a hand. "Hold on a sec. If I give you this, can you help me--"

"Do we really have the time to discuss this?" Carth asked disapprovingly.

"It takes between six and forty-eight hours to turn," Mission informed them, "so there's no rush. As long as Amira's not convulsing, it's all good."

"'All good' is hardly the term I would use," Amira growled, taking a predatory half-step towards the girl.

The tips of Mission's lekku jerked nervously and fresh tears welled as Carth grabbed a fistful of Amira's jacket and dragged her back. Mission looked the woman up and down, and wondered whether Amira was one of the rare exceptions that transformed earlier. That thought had her digging through her belt pouch immediately. She held up the syringe and asked quickly, "The antidote for helping me?"

Amira and Carth nodded immediately. Mission pulled out the syringe, and without hesitating, grabbed Amira's arm and stabbed the needle in.

"Ow," Amira said dryly as the contents were injected into her bloodstream.

The Twi'lek rolled her eyes. "You'll be as good as new in half an hour or so."

"Thank you, Nurse Mission."

The girl glanced up, and saw the odd sardonic yet grateful expression on Amira's face. It was quite frankly the most contradictory face she had ever seen.

"So where are they holding Zaalbar?" Amira asked quietly, rubbing her arm absently.


	7. Rescue

_Author's Notes:_ Thank you to the wonderful people who reviewed! I love you guys.

**Chapter 7 - Rescue**

"You know what you said earlier about a kid not being able to slice into things as well as you can? I think Mission has provided some tough competition," Carth commented. Being able to open manual locks without a key was no mean feat and showed just how resourceful the young Twi'lek was.

"Hey, I ain't no kid!" Mission protested.

"By legality, you are; but by experience, hell no," Amira amended. She was feeling much better now - there was no more crawling or burning sensations, no strange urges and no snarls. Whatever was in the syringe had really worked.

The teenager finished picking the ancient manual-style lock with a triumphant cry and was immediately enveloped by thick, shaggy fur and swung around.

"_Mission!"_ Zaalbar roared.

"Of course!" she cried into his brown fur, hugging him back tightly. "Mission and Zaalbar, together forever!"

It was a few seconds before the Wookiee noticed there were two humans watching. "_Mission,"_ he asked, "_what are these two doing here? Did they help you?"_

"Yep," she replied, glancing over at Amira and Carth as Zaalbar put her down.

The Wookiee cocked his head at the two humans. The female appeared to him to be the leader - confidence and charisma rolled off her white skin and she was half a step ahead of the male, which usually signified dominance. He assumed she was the one to address.

"_Thank you, human,"_ he woofed, knowing Mission would probably have to translate. "_Because of our physical strength and brutish appearances, many believe we are good for nothing but manual labour. I thought I was condemned before you helped Mission free me."_

"I know for a fact Wookiee culture is more complex than our own," Amira agreed. Surprised silence followed her words. She looked around at her companions, raising an eyebrow at their surprise. "I can understand Shriiwook, so what?"

Mission grinned. "You can too, Amira? That's pretty cool!"

Amira threw the teenager a cocky grin. "Linguistics expert, at your service."

"_It is rare to find an outsider who knows Shriiwook," _Zaalbar mused, "_and you have saved me from being sold as a slave. There is one way I can repay your kindness - a life-debt."_

"Life-debt?" Amira asked.

"Whoa, you sure about this, Zaalbar?" Mission asked, looking very surprised. At the Wookiee's nod, she turned to Amira and explained what a life-debt was about.

Amira mulled it over. Follow her for the rest of her life? That was a bit extreme. And flattering. She looked Zaalbar in the eye and said, "I would be honoured to accept."

"_In the presence of you all, I swear to follow you, Amira, for the rest of your days. May my vow be as firm as the roots of the great and timeless Woshyr trees of my home world._"

Amira felt something strange settle over her. Not as if she'd just been chained to anything, more like the weight of responsibility. If Zaalbar was going to stay with her, she was going to have to look out for him. He was a young Wookiee in his prime - many more would try to capture him the way the Gamorreans had. But the woman was sure she could live with it.

There was silence for a few seconds as everyone thought over what Zaalbar's life-debt would mean.

"Well, you're officially stuck with me now," Mission said, her joking words belied by her serious tone. "I'm not leaving Zaalbar ever again."

"Good to have both of you aboard," Amira said. "We certainly need the help."

"So what are we going to do now?" the Twi'lek asked. She hoped it would be something exciting.

"Well, the reason we came down here was to find you two," Carth explained. "We need to find the back entrance to the Black Vulkar base."

Mission cocked her head on the side. "Why? Aside from sabotaging their swoop bikes before the Opener."

"To steal back Gadon's prototype accelerator," Amira replied.

Mission looked Amira and Carth up and down, and then said to Zaalbar, "You swore a life-debt to the right guys."

~.~.~

"How can this even be operational?" Amira demanded, staring at the eye-searing blue force field.

"Someone had it installed years and years ago so the villagers wouldn't make their way to the Lower City through what is now the Vulkar base," Mission explained. "Not that they would have made it - the rancor would've eaten them."

"_Rancor?_" Amira repeated. "No one said a thing about a fracking rancor!"

"Relax," Mission said, "it's not that bad."

"Yeah," Carth agreed. "First we need to get past the force field."

"No probs on that one," the teenager said, turning to a half-hidden console. "I picked the code off a drunk Vulkar not too long ago."

"Along with what else?" Amira asked with a sly smile.

Mission returned a smirk of her own. "I can tell we're gonna get along just fine. . . and there we go!"

The bright blue wall flickered; then vanished, leaving everyone blinded by the burning imprint let on their retinas.

"They need to make force fields less eye-damaging," Amira muttered, blinking rapidly in the darkness.

It took nearly ten minutes for everyone's eyes to have adjusted properly to the darkness. Despite the way the Beks had implied they should hurry, Amira and Carth knew better than to rush blindly - literally - into the unknown. Especially when there were rakghouls, Gamorreans, mutant rats and other nasties lurking around.

Mission led them through a roundabout labyrinth of rusted durasteel walkways, side passages and large crawlspaces to avoid the nests of mutant rats, large reptiles and other creatures. To Amira's surprise, though, they hadn't seen any luminescent bodies of rakghouls.

When she whispered her question to Mission, the girl replied quietly, "That force field is the only way into the Vulkars' part of the sewer. The only things around are the ones that were here _before_ the force field was put up."

Amira nodded. That made sense.

The continued on in silence for the most part, even if the environment itself was anything but. There was a dull roar from all the water falling all the way from the Upper City, drowning out most of the tiny splashes as droplets fell on the wet floor, or on someone's head. Occasionally, someone heard a squeak or chirp of some local wildlife, causing hands to tighten on the hilt of their weapon, but they weren't ever attacked. Mission was observant, and coupled with knowing what to look for; she led them around any nearby creatures. Amira was impressed with the teenager's skill.

"Okay," Mission said, holding up a hand. Everyone stopped and looked at her. "There's a small room through that door, then another door which leads to the rancor's lair. Should we go in there or wait here?"

"How big is the door to the rancor's pit?" Amira asked.

"Not big enough to let a rancor through," the Twi'lek replied.

"Then we go in - I want to see how big this thing is."

Mission cautiously sliced the lock on the door and they walked into the tiny antechamber. Then Amira went straight to the door parallel to the one they walked through.

"Careful," Carth warned. Amira disregarded him.

She opened the door - it wasn't even locked, to her surprise - and jammed it as soon as she had enough space to look out of.

"Holy mother of the Force," she breathed.

There was an enormous hunk of wrinkled, leather skin that looked bigger than a house. Wicked ivory claws curved out of its hands and feet, glistening in the lone white glow rod. Its jaw wasn't able to accommodate for all the fangs it had, so many jutted from its maw like the spiky glass teeth of a broken window. The rancor was terribly proportioned, with hands nearly as big as its head and a body that was too large for its stubby limbs. Amira couldn't see its eyes, and was quite glad. If you could see something's eyes, you had to assume it could see you.

Amira turned back to her companions, uttering a string of curses. Carth looked at her disapprovingly, probably acting protective of Mission.

"Impressively ugly, isn't it?" Mission said.

"How in the _nine Corellian hells_ are we going to get past that thing?" Amira demanded, jerking her thumb at the doorway.

"You have a stealth belt?" the teenager asked.

"Sure," she replied.

"Well you and I could sneak past it and steal the accelerator thing," Mission suggested, "and cause as much havoc as we can from a console."

Carth frowned. "Shouldn't we make the assumption that the accelerator is too heavy for either of you to carry?"

Mission looked offended and opened her mouth to snap something feminist, but Amira stepped on her foot and said quickly, "Then you two can make your way up to the normal Vulkar entrance Lower City, and we can let you in once we've picked off everyone in the way."

"We still shouldn't split up," the soldier argued, "that's a bad idea."

"We're not launching an assault on their base, geez," Mission said.

"Depends on your definition of 'assault'," Amira threw in, just for the heck of it.

"_This is going nowhere_," Zaalbar growled. "_I agree with Carth - we should not split up._"

"Well then, what are we going to do?" Mission asked.

Silence.

Amira prowled around the room, hoping for something, anything, that would help them bring down a fully-grown rancor. A spot of white down the hallway attracted her attention, and the woman made her way from the antechamber towards the light patch.

"Amira?" Mission called.

"Were any Beks down here not long ago?" Amira called back, staring at the two blue-and-white clothed corpses. She wondered how they didn't see them before, but then again, they were around the corner to where they had come in.

Mission thought back, racking her brain for any hint Gadon had organised a team to go through the sewers recently. "Dunno, why?"

Amira made no answer, bending down beside the nearest body. The first thing she noticed was the cause of death: extensive plasma burns. The second thing she noticed was that the bodies had a strange smell on top of the putrid flesh, something musky that reminded Amira of a wild animal. She bent over the corpse, pointedly ignoring the fact that it no longer had a recognisable face, and began her standard body-search. Amira found a half-melted stealth field generator, some broken glass, a blaster and a burnt-out datapad. A quick loot of the second body yielded similar results, only that two vials weren't broken.

Holding one of the vials up, Amira saw there was some thick, translucent liquid inside. Her curiosity was instantly aroused, along with her problem-solving fetish. The strange smell and the vials had to be connected - hadn't she seen small chips of broken glass under the first corpse?

The woman grabbed the datapad and the second vial and then stood up.

"Whatcha find?" Mission asked from the doorway.

"Several inconsistencies that may help us beat the rancor," Amira replied, taking her findings back to the small room.

She carefully passed the vials to Mission with a warning not to drop them, then tried to turn on the datapad. Naturally, it didn't work. Pulling the back plating off and trying to reroute power failed too. Even when Zaalbar tried to work his magic on the small piece of technology, the stubborn thing refused to work.

"Anyone have a datapad they don't mind wrecking?" Amira asked.

Everyone either dug through their equipment, or looked around for a working datapad.

Carth returned from a small foray down the hall and dubiously asked, "Will this work?"

"Trying and failing is better than not trying and failing anyway," Amira answered, taking the datapad out of his hands.

With help from Zaalbar, they managed to transfer the data chip that recorded all the entries on the first datapad into the second. A few tense seconds wait as the thing powered on was rewarded with first the Blue Screen of Death, then jumbled up letters in a variety of dialects.

"Screwed," Amira said with a grimace; dropping the first charred piece of technology - which crumbled on impact - then drop kicking the second datapad for good measure.

"What are we going to do now?" Carth asked with frustrated sigh.

"We're going to deduce why two Beks were here of all places, why they died from a plasma grenade and what it has to do with that liquid," Amira replied.

Zaalbar started the ball rolling. "_I would believe they would be scouting the sewers,_"

Amira shrugged. "Plausible, but what other options are there?"

"I don't get why there would only be two Beks - surely there would have had to have been more," Carth commented.

"Yeah," Mission agreed, "it isn't like them to only have two, and we haven't come across any bodies in Bek colours before now."

"_Perhaps the others were either turned into rakghouls or they managed return to the Lower City,_" Zaalbar suggested.

"That sounds very plausible, but how would those two have been killed by a plasma grenade?" Amira wondered. "The Vulkars surely don't bother patrolling the sewers - after all, they have a bloody rancor guarding the door!"

"_A fault with the grenade, or one set off prematurely,_" the Wookiee growled.

"Now we're getting somewhere," Amira said. "Mission, is there any way for a rakghoul or something nasty to get past the force field? No crawlspace or other passage?"

"Not that I know of, but there could be something. And if those Beks weren't careful, they might've attracted one of the nasties on this side of the force field."

"Okay. . ." Amira mused. "How do the vials fit in with out theory?"

Silence.

"It must be some sort of chemical," Carth pointed out, "but I don't know what."

Amira thought quietly for a minute. "Well, there's one way to test it." She appraised both Carth and Zaalbar. "Which one of you is better at throwing?"

The soldier raised an eyebrow. "I'm pretty good, but I don't think I can beat a Wookiee."

Amira refused to admit she hadn't thought of that, so she merely shrugged. "Big Z, could you throw one of the vials near the rancor?"

The Wookiee carefully grabbed one of the vials as Amira widened the gap in the door. He hurled it into the room beyond, the vial smashing within twenty feet of the rancor. Its reaction was immediate and obvious. The creature perked up and stomped towards the broken vial, investigating eagerly. It even went so far as to start licking the filthy durasteel floor.

"Good shot," Amira muttered, then turned back to the group. "There's our answer. It attracts the rancor. So how are we going to use this?"

"_Grenade,_" Zaalbar immediately suggested. "_I can rig up something powerful and then we could cover it in that chemical and feed it to the rancor._"

"Now there's an idea," Mission said. "In fact, you said those Beks died from a grenade, right?" She looked at Amira, who nodded. "Then maybe that was _their_ idea - after all, nothing except a lightsaber could cut through its skin."

"Even if it wasn't, that sounds good," Amira agreed, then looked around at her companions. "All in favour?"

Everyone made a noise of assent.

"Good," Amira said. "Zaalbar, could you start rigging something up?"

The Wookiee nodded and pulled several grenades off his utility belt, along with what looked like a security tunneler, then turned away and began working.

Amira paced the length of the room while Zaalbar messed around with the grenades, anticipation beginning to curl in her stomach. Finally they were getting somewhere.

"Hey Amira, can I go?" Mission asked, excitement filling her features.

Amira flashed her stealth field generator at the teenager, an answer in itself. "Plus, it's my idea. I like executing my plans myself."

Mission scowled but didn't argue since the woman hadn't brought up age or experience. Nevertheless, the teenager grumbled something about underestimation under her breath.

Amira knew Mission didn't like being treated like a kid, and Amira didn't like doing anything that could be seen as either. But it was better this way - Zaalbar was more protective than Amira had seen him in the cantina, so he probably wouldn't let her go anyway. And it wasn't like she had lied or anything - she did prefer getting things done herself, rather than relying on anyone else.

"_I'm finished,_" the Wookiee announced. "_Be careful, Amira._"

She shot him a cocky grin as she carefully took the combined grenades off him. "I'm always careful."

Carth coughed loudly, sounding like he was choking on something. Amira threw him a dirty look as she passed.

A sudden thought occurred to her. "Hey, guys, get back into the corridor. We don't know how big this blast is going to be." Then the woman activated her stealth field generator and squeezed through the gap in the door; she ignored Mission's petulant look, Zaalbar's concerned eyes and Carth's scowl. It was too easy, being as thin as she was, then she was out. Unprotected and defenceless. Amira ignored the feeling of agoraphobia, shoving it to the back of her mind, and surveyed the cavernous room. Where could she put the uber-grenade so it was a safe distance away from the room, but close enough she would be able to run back in time?

That idea was thrown out the window when her eyes rested on a pile of corpses.

Amira took careful steps towards the fleshy mountain, and examined the jumble of bones, half-rotted bodies and carcasses that were completely dismembered. She looked around the base for a corpse that would work, but found only rotten pieces of flesh and old bones. This meant she had to climb.

_Get over yourself_, she thought as the very small respectable part of her squirmed. _It has to be done, end of story_. She gave herself another moment of hesitation, then began to clamber up.

It wasn't so bad - once she was moving and her mind was distracted by finding hand holds, Amira forgot she was standing on decomposing and disfigured bodies. Admittedly, at this point in time she was more concerned about rodents, or falling off and shorting out her stealth belt.

She found a reasonable corpse near the top of the pile - not more than two weeks old. There was a small hole just below the body's breastbone, and Amira froze as the chest _moved_. A squeak and the sounds of chewing brought a rush of relief to the woman. Holding back a sigh of relief, Amira inspected the hole closely. The stomach and intestines were gone, along with most of the lungs and the heart. A few ribs were exposed, flesh eaten away, all showing the same tiny teeth marks.

Her examination caught the attention of the body's occupants and two rats hissed at her, trusting scent more than sight as they scuttled towards the opening. Amira carefully placed the grenades and the vial down, then swiftly snatched one rat and snapped its neck. The second rat backed up further into the hollow cavity it had previously been making, spitting all the while.

Amira prayed to the Force she wouldn't get bitten - she'd had enough of infected bites for one day - then reached in and pulled the squealing rat out. After quickly dispatching of it, she looked up anxiously to check on the rancor. The beast obviously had poor hearing, or was used to the squeaks of rats.

She let out a breath and then carefully placed the combined grenades in the hollowed rib cage, careful not to snag one of the pins on an exposed rib. Then she uncorked the vial and quickly poured the contents over the grenades and the corpse. Lastly, she pushed the grenades up into the chest cavity so they wouldn't fall out easily, and stood up.

Amira stared at the rancor as she climbed down from the pile of corpses, watching for its reaction. The rancor began plodding towards the corpse pile with a speed the woman couldn't believe it possessed.

She uttered some of the foulest words she knew.


	8. Obvious Inflitration

**Chapter 8 - Obvious Infiltration**

Run and be killed or stay and be killed. Those were her options.

Try to bolt and be detected, or try to sneak away and be killed by the imminent explosion. Heart trying to leap out of her chest, Amira jumped the rest of the way off the corpses, landing in a roll. By the grace of the Force, her stealth belt didn't short out. The rancor didn't notice the thump, but that didn't mean she should deactivate her stealth field now by running.

Her legs locked as she tried to think. Instinct screamed _get away!_ while mind screamed _don't blow it!_

Amira realised she wasn't moving and started backing away as fast as she dared. The rancor had reached the grenade pile and was now snuffling around eagerly, searching for the source of the odorous smell.

Amira glanced at the half-open door and saw she was still a good twenty or so feet away.

She glanced back to the rancor, which was now devouring the booby-trapped corpse in a frenzy of excitement.

_Screw it!_

Amira ran. Her stealth belt sizzled and hissed as the cloaking field shorted out. Footsteps impossibly loud, she barreled towards the opening that would save her life. Her peripheral vision faded and all that mattered was the door. Amira could hear nothing but her own footsteps, which seemed to continue pounding in her head even after the end of each stride. She barely slowed down before she slammed into the door. She didn't feel the pain. All that mattered was the dark gap that she tried to shove herself through.

Amira had no idea who pulled her in, and didn't bother to ask. "Move! Into the corridor, _now!_"

Everyone scrambled through the next door and into the hallway. A few tense seconds of painful silence, where they wondered if it worked-

A muffled boom. A pained howled. A bone-shuddering thud.

Silence.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'd say it worked," Mission said.

~.~.~

It was almost too easy to sabotage - aka massacre - the Black Vulkar base. Not one guard was prepared; all died quickly. Mission was able to slice into almost the entire network from one console in the corner of the garage. From there, everything went to hell in an express elevator.

Mission was able to tamper the engines in most of the swoop bikes, making the bikes unstable to ride. She corrupted the droids targeting systems, overloaded as many conduits as possible, unlocked some security doors, deactivated turrets, stopped the security cameras and uploaded a copy of the base schematics to her datapad.

From there, it was a simple clean-out until they stumbled across the accelerator.

Of course, everything was never as easy as it sounded.

The Vulkar cooks, strangely enough, put up quite a fight. They charged out of nowhere, brandishing large knives and meat cleavers, and rushed at Amira. They fought like animals - furious, wild and unreasonable - and struck some solid blows before being downed.

When it was over, Amira glanced down at the knife protruding from her arm with feigned disinterest. "Would you look at that."

Carth rolled his eyes as he made his way to her side.

Amira asked dryly, "Permission to say 'ow'?"

"Granted."

"Ow."

Mission chortled quietly, whereas Zaalbar produced a medpack from somewhere and approached Amira. Carth tried to grab her arm to hold her reasonably still, but Amira jerked herself back, hissing quietly as it moved her arm. It was obvious now that her wound was causing more pain than she showed.

"Oh, quit it," he growled. "Either you take that knife out, or I will."

"Fine!"

He wrapped his fingers around her tense upper arm and readied his other hand. "Relax," Carth ordered. "It'll hurt less."

"Yeah, yeah," she replied through clenched teeth. Amira shut her eyes and concentrated on getting her muscles to unwind. Since her eyes were closed, she was unprepared for when Carth yanked the knife out. Amira flinched and clamped her jaws together harder to stop herself from crying out. Her eyes flicked open as Carth backed off and Zaalbar and Mission moved in with the medpack. Mission helped Amira slide her jacket off, then assisted the Wookiee in bandaging her injuries and administering a few kolto shots. On top of the stab wound, there were a few shallow and not-so-shallow slashes.

"Wow," Mission commented. "Blood looks so stark against against your skin. It's scary."

"Red is one of my colours, Mish," Amira replied tightly as Zaalbar pulled one of the bandages tight.

"Surprise, surprise."

Zaalbar finished tending to Amira, and the woman picked up her jacket. She sighed as she examined it. "Damn. . . it'll take ages to get all that out." Then she looked down at her shirt and saw the sticky patches of blood staining the dark green fabric black.

"Nothing you can do now," Mission said.

Amira sighed again, then slid her jacket back on for lack of anything else to do. She looked around around and saw a closed door. Amira got an idea. She pushed on the door to the kitchen. It opened far to slowly for her liking, but the thin woman managed to squeeze her way in. Amira scanned the room for her target, wondering, _If I was a Black Vulkar, where would I hide the caffa?_

A squeak interrupted her thoughts. Amira's head snapped up and she saw a young woman huddling in a corner.

"Please don't kill me!" she begged, tears spilling over her eyelids. Then her babble instinct kicked in. "I'm not a Vulkar, I don't support them, I just serve the food here, please don't kill me-"

"Hey, hey," Amira interrupted. "I don't make a habit of killing defenseless girls. How did you get here?"

"They killed my older brother, my only family, and took me as a slave," she answered, wiping her eyes with grotty hands.

"Okay. . . do you know how many Vulkars are usually in the base around this time?" When the girl shook her head fearfully, Amira asked, "Do you know anything about another slave - a Republic officer called Bastila?"

"They made a whole bunch of sick jokes when they first captured her," she answered glumly, "but she's not here. Not getting beaten and groped and spat on like me."

Amira nodded. Gadon hadn't been lying. "Alright. Just wait here for about half an hour, then the way out should be clear."

Her eyes widened. "Thank you!"

Amira was about to turn around and leave, but then remembered what she had originally come for. "Hey, do you know where the caffa is stored?"

"Over there," the young woman said, pointing to a cupboard on the left side of the room.

"Thanks." Amira made a beeline for the caffa stores, then grinned when she saw an empty backpack just lying on the counter. The Force wanted her to steal the caffa, she knew it.

"And just what are you doing?" Mission demanded, having wriggled through the half-opened doors and was now watching her load packet after packet of ground caffa into her scavenged backpack.

"You think a base of this size can operate without caffa?" Amira snickered darkly. "Besides, I like caffa."

"Now why didn't we think of that?" she huffed to Zaalbar, who was peering through the gap in the doors.

"Interesting idea," Carth muttered, secretly glad of what Amira was doing. Who didn't like caffa?

"Alright, let's go," Amira said, swinging the full pack onto her shoulders. She glanced at the young woman, who was still in the corner, and said. "Half an hour, then run for the exit."

She nodded gratefully.

~.~.~

_"Can I kill them now?" _

The words sounded strange rolling off the graceful tongue of a Twi'lek woman. The anticipation embedded in the Twi'leki words made them sound seductive. It was also strange she was armoured and armed; she probably could've given Zaerdra a run for her money in the quality of her blaster.

Kandon Ark whisked a disappointed eye over the intruders - lingering on Amira's and Mission's chests - then replied, _"Yes, darling. Kill them all."_

And it was on.

They ran back out of the room, taking cover on either side of the doorway. Carth and Zaalbar began throwing grenades at their enemies while Mission and Amira readied their weapons, energy shields and stealth belts. The strategy was that while the men were lobbing grenade after grenade until they ran out, Amira and Mission would sneak in and assassinate the Twi'lek defenders. The other Vulkar guards were simple fodder, but Kandon and his girlfriend were dangerous.

"Who do you want?" Amira whispered to Mission, hoping the girl could hear her over the blasts.

"Kandon!" the teenager whispered back furiously. He had tried to manipulate her, turn her against the Beks.

Amira nodded. She had no problem with it. "Just make sure he goes down in one shot. No prolonging it."

Mission nodded, a bit exasperated. She wasn't stupid or sadistic.

They caught Zaalbar's attention, who was on the opposite side of the door and signaled that they were going in. Amira drew her vibrodagger from her boot, while Mission hefted her blaster pistol. The two activated their shields and stealth belts, then tapped Carth on the shoulder as they passed. It was all a part of their plan - let the men know they were in the room, so they would be more careful. But the shields were activated as a precaution. Carth leaned back behind the doorway, stopping his attack while Amira slipped past him. As soon as Mission vanished, the woman had no idea where the teenager was. She was damn good.

It was a disconcerting thing to see people looking in your direction - people who wanted to kill you - yet they didn't react, didn't open fire. The two Twi'leks and the one remaining guard - _Force, Carth is fast,_ Amira thought - had their eyes trained on the doorway, through Amira, blasters raised and ready. Yet for all their staring, they didn't notice the tiniest ripples of air. Amira stalked up to the female Twi'lek, the one that had spoken arousingly as she had asked to shoot them. She took it one foot at a time, much more at ease now than she had been with the rancor. Making sure to stay silent and unnoticed. Amira even took every breath with care. Slowly, carefully, she made her way around the Twi'lek until she was standing directly behind her. The best spot to hit would be the base of her skull - easy to reach and vulnerable. Amira shifted her grip on the vibrodagger, took a deep breath and moved closer. She wasn't going to botch this by the Twi'lek feeling someone breathing on the back of her neck. Amira carefully raised her dagger, inched closer still and struck like lightning.

She crumpled to the ground. Amira's stealth field deactivated with a _whoosh._

Out of the corner of Amira's eye, she saw Kandon collapse. The back of his head was a black, smoking mess. The last guard whipped around and fell as Mission shot him.

"Sharpshooter," Amira praised.

"Thanks." Mission grinned. "Now where's this engine?"


	9. Detour

******Chapter 9 - Detour****  
****  
Amira thanked the Force they made it out with no more complications. She knew that getting out of the Vulkar base wasn't the end of their mission and she shouldn't relax. But it was easier to breathe now that they had more room to maneuver.**

"C'mon," Mission said, moving to take point. "I think I remember the way around here, though it's been years. We just need to get to Bek turf, and then we'll probably get an armed entourage."

They set off at a fast pace, and Amira thanked the Force again - this time for Zaalbar. The Wookiee was the only one who could carry the accelerator without much difficulty and retain speed. Mission led them through the winding back streets that made up the Black Vulkars' home territory while Amira and Carth kept their weapons ready and Zaalbar carried the accelerator.

Mission kept a brisk pace and if she lost her way once or twice, she didn't give any hint of it. They were held up a few times by roaming Black Vulkars, but none were expecting an attack to come from behind them in their own territory.

They were on the outskirts of the Vulkar ground when Amira felt something strange from what she had dubbed her 'scoundrel's instinct'. Her eyes unerringly found a large door with faded emblazoning and broken neon signs on the far side of their current crossroad.

"Hey, Mish, what's that?" she asked, pointing.

The Twi'lek glanced back at Amira, then at the door. "That's the old Exchange slave auction house."

Amira stared inquisitively at the door. Her instinct wanted her to go in and check it out. "We have time for a detour," she decided out loud.

"We need to get the accelerator back to the Beks," Carth argued.

"Scoundrel's instinct."

"Scoundrel's stupidity."

Amira rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, I won't be long." The big, old doors took a lot of work and swearing to get open, but she managed on her own and walked slowly into the derelict room.

**_-Ten cloaked and hooded strangers inconspicuously entered the auction house. The greedy men were too busy eying the slaves on the stage to notice the figures-  
_****  
Amira looked around warily, realising she had stopped in the middle of the room. ****_What the frack just happened?_**** "What the hell happened here?"**

"This was the main base of the slave trade on this part of Taris," Mission filled in from the doorway, "but it's been deserted since the Jedi raided it a few years back."

The woman didn't move, surveying the room properly. There was scant light that could reach through the shattered windows and since the glow rods were all broken, it left the cavernous hall dim and dank. Parts of the ceiling had crumbled down, leaving piles of hazardous debris on the floor. Cracks criss-crossed across the walls, creating a fractured network of lines that threatened to **give way at any moment. There was, however, a surprising lack of graffiti scrawled on the permacrete walls. Splattered liberally around the room were faded brown bloodstains, while frail skeletons littered the ground. Shadows loomed in the corners, giving the dark, foreboding feeling a visual form.**

"I heard Revan and Malak led the attack."

Something caught Amira's eye. She silently approached then knelt down to examine the burnt scar on the permacrete floor. There was only one weapon that could leave such a mark.

"Lightsaber," the woman whispered as she lightly traced the blackened line. "How come it was abandoned, then?" Amira asked in a louder voice.

"The Republic knew about this place. Wasn't smart to stay," Mission replied. "And. . ."

Amira stood up, alert for any sign of danger. "And what?"

"Rumour says. . . Revan cursed this place." Amira glanced over her shoulder to raise an eyebrow at Mission. "You know, one of those insanely creepy curses you learn in the Unknown Regions. Freaked everyone out, I heard. No one came back to loot the auction house, so I'd assume it worked."

Amira snorted loudly. That was it? "I don't believe in curses."

"Hey, you weren't here," Mission argued.

"And you were?" She glanced over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. Then she blinked. Carth, Mission and Zaalbar were all hovering in the doorway. She had to bite back her sudden amusement.

"Nope. I don't hang with slavers. They always seem to try and capture me, for some weird reason."

"I think you overdid the sarcasm just a bit," Amira replied dryly. Then she surveyed the room again, taking in every inch of destruction. "Looks like the wrath of the war goddess herself."

"War goddess?" Mission asked.

"Rumour from a lonely cantina on the Rim," Amira replied. "Revan was a goddess of war avenging the destruction of the Outer Rim worlds."

"Except Revan was a Jedi," Carth pointed out.

"Hey, I never said it was true," Amira countered. "But it does look like it was someone's time of the month."

"You think Revan was a woman?" Carth asked.

"Yeah." She bent down to inspect an old, decomposed corpse.

"Why?"

"Oh, come on! Women can do anything men can. . . aside from actual gender limitations, but we **won't even go there."**

"So you're a feminist?"

She was tempted to say she was an androphobe just to watch his reaction. Amira pocketed a few credits and a security spike as she replied, "I just hate it when people always credit men. Women are just as strong as men. If there is a powerful unknown figure, people always believe it's a male." She stood up and gestured around her. "And I say Revan was a woman. If you're about to join a war, all geared up and naively excited, I think a woman would be more likely to stop and help out the locals before moving on to the front lines. I'm not trying to be sexist, it just seems that way to me."

"I suppose you've got a point," Carth conceded, "but we're going to have to agree to disagree."

Amira didn't bother to reply. She knew her reasoning was wasted on most people.

"Can we scram soon?" Mission asked, changing the subject. "Being in an old slave auction house is starting to give me the creeps."

"You're not even in here, Mish." Amira spun around to face the doorway, fighting not to show her amusement. "I'm the only one who's stepped across the threshold." **_And apparently I'm the only one immune to this 'curse', _****she thought with wicked humour. Amira turned around again so they wouldn't see her ever-growing smirk.**

"Technicalities, technicalities," the Twi'lek grumped. "Come on. I'm sure there'll be plenty of corpses to loot on the way to the Bek base."

"Oh, but I like surrounding myself with the remains of slavers," Amira said jokingly. "But," she sighed long-sufferingly, "if it makes you so uncomfortable then I shall reign in my curiosity and we will continue to the Hidden Beks."

Mission rolled her eyes as Amira passed her.

~.~.~

It seemed every member of the Hidden Beks were waiting for Amira and the others to return. They were welcomed into the Hidden Bek base with thunderous cheers of triumph and slaps on the back from every Bek that was close enough. Mission drank up the spotlight, describing in accurate detail what they had done before they had even reached Gadon's desk.

Gadon grinned broadly when they came within range of his ocular implants, seeing for himself the returned accelerator. Even Zaerdra looked less intimidating, nodding once in Amira and Carth's direction before scanning the crowd again for possible assassins.

"Here, let us take that off your hands," Gadon said, beckoning three gang members to move the prototype accelerator to the garage. Heads swivelled and expressions of awe passed over the face of every gang member. Many reached out to touch the accelerator that was now officially theirs again. Then the deafening cheers broke out again. It was almost religious the way they got so worked up over an engine.

**_Then again,_**** Amira reminded herself, ****_they are members of a swoop gang. You can't be a member unless you're religiously devoted to swoop racing._****  
****  
"You've done us a great favour," Gadon said, reclaiming Amira's attention, "and I thank you for what you've done for us."**

"Do you think they'll get it installed in time for the Opener?" Amira asked, turning the watch the accelerator being carried through one of the doorways, most likely to the garage.

"They will," Gadon replied, completely confident. "And don't think I haven't remembered my deal. Either one of you can ride the modified swoop bike."

"Gadon!" Zaerdra hissed. "We need our best rider on the bike!"

"Zaerdra's right," Amira agreed. "Why are you offering to us, when you don't know if we even can ride swoops?"

"You didn't react earlier when we were discussing our terms." Then he said bluntly, "Also, I must be honest: that accelerator is unstable. There is a chance it may explode during a heat. I can't ask one of my own riders to take the risk."

"Great, just great." Amira exhaled sharply in frustration and her lips thinned. "I'm sure they'd be willing to take the risk, Gadon."

"I am aware of that," Gadon replied. "But I am still offering to you first. Do you really want to sit on the sidelines and trust one of my riders to win back your friend?"

The answer was no. Amira knew that as surely as Gadon did. She briefly cursed his awareness. Then she nodded once sharply, and said, "Fine. I'll race."

The leader of the Hidden Beks leaned back in his seat. "Excellent. You can stay here tonight. Now go, enjoy yourselves in the party that is no doubt starting." He made a shooing motion with his hands.

~.~.~

Finally after nearly an hour of being congratulated and asked to recount their escapades in the Vulkar base, Amira, Carth, Mission and Zaalbar were sitting at one of the tables in the Beks' cafeteria, listening to blaring music and the sounds of general partying.

"Hey Amira," Mission asked over dinner, nearly shouting to be heard over the cheering and music, "when'd you get those piercings?"

She knew the Twi'lek wasn't referring to the single stud in each earlobe that were standard piercings for most females. Amira absently reached up to finger the two silver hoops in the top of her left ear and the single hoop in the top of her right. "I believe they fall under the jurisdiction of teenage rebellion."

"Very good!" Mission called, holding up her hand. Amira thwacked it in a high five, smiling. They chatted some more about general things, making bets on how many bikes the Vulkars would be able to scavenge, how long the Beks would be partying for and how pissed Brejik was going to get when they won. The women were ignored by both Carth and Zaalbar. The Wookiee was fiddling with a small piece of technology in between mouthfuls of his second plate of food, obviously not impressed with the celebration. Carth didn't look happy, even appearing a bit **uncomfortable, frustrated and thoughtful. He obviously had something on his mind.**

Amira decided to fill Mission in on what the whole situation was, with the **_Endar Spire_****, the Sith and a certain Jedi. In her peripheral vision, she saw Zaalbar tune in to her words and reacted accordingly by making eye contact with him as well as Mission while she spoke.**

"So we've gotta rescue this Bastila then somehow get out of here," Mission summarized when Amira finished.

Amira nodded. "Pretty much."

"But what about the quarantine?" the Twi'lek asked.

"One thing at a time," Amira replied. "First we get Bastila, **_then_**** we find a way off-planet."**

Mission frowned thoughtfully. "We could always smuggle ourselves onto one of the Sith ships leaving Taris."

"Then what?" she asked, picking up her glass and swilling its contents. "We try and escape from one of the big warships? Massacre the crew and hijack the ship?" Out of the corner of her eye, Amira noticed Carth seemed to be taking an interest in the conversation, though he was still glaring vibrodaggers at the table. She was tempted to say something along the lines of **_"Or I could just whip out my Sith codes and they'd let us go!" _****just to watch his reaction. Amira took a swig from her glass.**

"Yeah, thanks for shooting my plan down," Mission grumbled.

"Who said I was shooting it down? I'm quite fond of massacres." She grinned dangerously.

"Of course you are," Carth muttered.

Amira laughed. She gestured at Carth and said to Mission, "Isn't he just a ladies' man?"

Mission snorted into her drink.

They fell into a comfortable silence. . . if one excluded Carth. Amira and Mission finished their meals, Zaalbar was on fourths, and the soldier was still being moody.

Out of nowhere, Mission ducked under the table to pull her backpack into her lap. She dug around in the various salvaged odds and ends until she finally extracted one datapad. Then another. She pushed them across the table to Amira, saying, "Look at these."

Amira picked up one, powered it up and quickly scrolled through its contents. She did the same with the second datapad, and then looked over at the teenager. "Promised Land? That rings a bell. . ." In an aside she muttered, "A very quiet bell. . ."

Mission nodded. "I think these are what Rukil Wrinkle-Skin has been looking for. He's obsessed with the fabled Promised Land - the secret paradise under Taris. I think there's still another journal about it floating around somewhere."

"You should go take the journals to Rukil, then," Amira said. "If this 'Promised Land' is real, the people of the Undercity should go find it." She truly pitied the villagers of the Undercity. They were **walled in, caged with monsters and foul diseases, and never had a moment of respite from their cruel world. It was the perfect prison. If there was something that could ease their suffering, she was sure the Promised Land was it. If not, then it was better to die chasing a hope than wallowing in a cesspit.**

"Good idea. Come on, Big Z!" Ignoring her friend's complaints about not being finished eating, Mission grabbed his paw and pulled him away. Zaalbar managed to snatch his bowl from the table, and then followed his friend.

Amira watched them go with a snicker. She leaned back in her seat, rocking on its hind legs, and closed her eyes. She absently tapped the rhythm to the current song blaring from the massive speakers on her thigh.

"Why are you sarcastic one minute and charming the next?" Carth asked unexpectedly.

Amira glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. "Haven't you already asked me something along those lines?"

"No," Carth replied. "Last time I asked how. This time I'm asking why. You can be callous, then so. . . you know what, it's almost bi-polar."

"Bi-polar," Amira scoffed under her breath. "I'll show you bi-polar. . ."

"Are you going to answer me or are you going to be difficult?"

She pursed her lips. It wasn't something she wanted to discuss with Carth, of all people. He had asked how before, and she didn't know. She guessed it was from living a hard life, where she had to both kill people and charm them into doing her favours. All she knew was that it came naturally and she wasn't about to question it. Now he was asking why, but it had a simpler answer, one tied in with the previous one. She simply believed there were times to be nice and times to be callous. Her behaviours were born from necessity.

It still wasn't something she wanted to explain to a Republic solder, though. They never understood and were high-and-mighty about a lot of things that Rimmers said and did. She frowned slightly as a traitorous idea occurred. Maybe if she answered it would be setting a good example, or would relieve her of the status of 'hypocrite' before their next argument could come up.

Finally, unhappily, she gave in. In an unconcerned voice, she said, "It's necessary. Some people don't deserve to be treated badly, but other people need a good bashing, either verbally or physically." Amira saw him frown, as she expected. "I suppose you could call it a counter balance, though, when referring to general actions." That was dangerously close to a lie, but Amira didn't care. "Like I'll smuggle goods and evade the Republic, but I'll also kill Sith when I get the chance."

"You mean you're good sometimes so you don't feel guilty about doing the wrong thing?" Carth demanded angrily, disapproval practically emanating from him.

"No," she hissed back. "I don't do it to absolve myself of any guilt. I do it to even the scales, keep my neutrality. I'm not inherently evil, you know!"

"Could've fooled me."

"Oh, very funny." The sarcasm dripped from her tongue to splash on the cold durasteel floor. "It's **called a custom-made moral code, Republic." She stood abruptly with a flick of her loose black hair and disappeared into the crowd.**

"Hey, I heard you got offered to ride our pride and glory," one Bek said as she passed.

"Yeah," she replied, hiding her irritation behind a smile. She looked around the clump of people of varying species and genders. "Don't worry, guys, I'll do you proud. I've been racing since I was a kid."

That statement earned her a few claps on the back. **_"If you're good, Gadon might offer you a place with us," _****another said, this one a female Rodian.**

"I'd be honoured if he did," Amira said carefully, knowing she could never accept. "Swoop gangs are well-known for finding talent and training it well."

"Don't let it feed your ego, though," a dark-skinned man warned with a smirk. "You need to win first."

Amira grinned her cocky spacer's smile. "Consider it done."

"I almost wish I was the one riding," he continued. "To be the first person to ride the prototype accelerator, feel the unparalleled speed and the air whooshing past you. . . I'll admit I'm envious."

"How about I remember to enjoy it and I'll tell you all about it after?"

They all nodded fervently.

"Alright, well I'm gonna get a drink. I'll see you guys around." There were goodbyes and Amira waved as she made her way through the crowd, skirting the impromptu dance floor, to the bar.

"Tarisian ale," she told the barkeep, who grabbed a glass and poured her drink. She thanked the Duros and left to find a seat. It took a while to find a small empty table near the corner of the room. It was the type of seat she'd take in a cantina, and it had Amira's name written all over it. She sank down into the chair and looked around. She had a clear view of the dance floor, which provided great entertainment as some teens were attempting to break dance.

Amira lost track of time as she watched the party raving around her. She wondered how many of them would have incredible hangovers the next morning. As her thoughts turned to the next few days, Amira wondered if the techs really would get the accelerator installed and working by the Tarisian Opener, which was in two days. She hoped it would be stable enough to ride. It was all very well and good for Gadon to tell her the risks and the techs to minimize them, but at the end of the day her life was on the line. It didn't mean a great deal to the ex-smuggler, as she was used to potentially fatal situations, but it was nice to not die.

As her thoughts churned on to what the Opener would be like, Amira's normally suppressed womanly side came out. Was she just going to wear her current attire? Amira looked down and saw her bloodstained jacket and shirt. **_Hmm. . . Should probably get those cleaned up,_**** she thought idly. An edge of practicality came into her musings - what she was wearing was not adequate for racing, nor safe. She knew from experience that racers had to wear thick yet nearly skin-tight clothing, for protection from the cold and to reduce wind resistance. Her current clothes wouldn't do. Amira didn't really want to wear Bek colours, which was assured if she borrowed from the racers. That was painting an unnecessary target on her forehead. Amira wanted to get ****through the race with relative anonymity so after she could simply go back to the Upper City, where no one would know what she had done.**

That made up her mind. Enough time had passed from her tense conversation with Carth that it wouldn't be counted as running away if he saw her leave. So she had no inhibitions about standing up and leaving the Hidden Bek base, making sure she had the Sith papers with her.

~.~.~

"We're back!"

Carth looked up to see Mission plop down in the seat across from him. Zaalbar copied her motion, placing his empty bowl on the table. "How did it go?" he asked.

"You wouldn't believe it!" the Twi'lek exclaimed. "You remember Hendar, the guy they said you saved at the gate?"

Carth nodded.

"We'll, he'd found one of the journals as well, so now Rukil's got all three! He was ecstatic - if he could have danced around like a madman, I'm sure he would've! They're gonna set off soon to try and find the Promised Land. And I looked over the journals and it doesn't seem like some ginormous hoax. I really hope they make it, though it's sad that I won't see them again. . ."

"Well just think that they're hopefully finding a better place to live," Carth advised.

"I know, it's just that I don't like to lose friends, and the villagers were good people, y'know?"

Carth nodded. "Hey, do you know where we're sleeping tonight?"

"In the room Big Z and I use when we stay here," Mission answered. "There's enough bunks for all of us. I can take you there if you want."

Carth nodded again.

"C'mon." Mission poked Zaalbar, who had somehow found another dish and was currently shovelling food into his mouth. He whined in protest and the Twi'lek held her hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay, fine. We're goin'."

Mission led the way, weaving expertly through the crowd and occasionally stopping to say hi to some person or another. Then they were out the door and into a network of corridors that were incredibly maze-like. Carth lost track of the path they were taking and knew he'd have to rely on Mission again if he wanted to go anywhere.

"Here we are," Mission said breezily. "Home sweet home away from home." She keyed the door controls and the two halves slid away, sticking in a few places. "Huh, someone already showed Amira the way here."

Carth tried to get his eyes to focus properly in the darkness. With the help of the invading light from the corridor glow rods, he saw her lying on one of the bunks on the left side of the room, fully clothed, with one leg hanging over the side. There was a bag lying on the ground beside her bunk. Amira didn't say anything, didn't even look up at her new companions.  
**  
Mission frowned as she walked in. "Dammit, she stole my bed."**

Again, there was no reply from Amira. Carth guessed she was either being antisocial, or she was asleep. As he walked in, Mission was tugging off one of Amira's boots, which gave the seconds theory some credit.

Zaalbar appeared beside Carth, having finished his last meal and was now ready to sleep. The Wookiee veered to the right, claiming an extra large bed that appeared to be designed for large species'. Carth decided to as well, though he chose a bunk far away from the Wookiee. Carth didn't want to be kept awake all night by thunderous snoring.

As he sat down and pulled off his boots, he watched Mission climb up the ladder and take the bed above Amira's.

"G'night, all," she said, then was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

Carth wished he could fall asleep as easily as the Twi'lek, but knew it wasn't to be so. Not after being a veteran of two wars and after their current situation. He wouldn't be able to sleep easily on a planet conquered by Sith, especially not after the events of the Undercity. Carth sighed as he rolled over, hoping to the Force he'd get a few hours of sleep.

~.~.~

Amira's eyes snapped open as she lurched up, swiping at a non-existent rakghoul. Her wild eyes whipped around the room, found nothing, then closed as she let out a relieved breath. Amira's heart pounded in her chest as she gasped down mouthfuls of air.

Eventually her breathing settled down but her heart barely slowed. Pulse thundering in her ears, she looked around again. There were no white shapes springing at her from the blackness or even lurking in the corners, so she relaxed further.

Her bite wound, scabbed over and shiny, tingled with phantom pain. Amira rested her right hand over it, checking that it wasn't bleeding or weeping. She closed her eyes briefly and sighed. There was no getting back to sleep tonight.

She slid out of her bed quietly and made for the door. Amira hadn't changed her clothes before dropping on the bed, so there was no need to put on anything. She couldn't be bothered to put on her boots, though, as she slipped out the door. Vaguely, she wondered when she had taken them off.

Amira wandered the halls, glad most people were being sane and sleeping. Someone had turned the lights off in the corridors for the night, which she was both thankful for and annoyed about. One hand out in front of her to feel for walls or other run-into-able objects, Amira slowly crept around the Bek base. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light and she could navigate better through the twisting corridors. The woman thought she heard something that definitely was not her feet slapping against the chilly permacrete, and stopped. Listening hard, the sounds of clanking rumbled through the comfortable silence. Through the floor, she could feel minute vibrations. Amira wandered in the general direction of the sounds, curious about what was going on. Eventually, she stumbled across the garage and the technicians melding, fixing, fiddling.

"Yes? Can I help you?" a human mechanic asked, wiping her greasy hands on a dirty rag. She **had short brown hair that was kept out of her face by a headband made of ripped material.**

"I just came to check out the bike I'll be riding in the swoop race," Amira replied.

She looked Amira up and down. "You're going to ride on the modified swoop?" Amira nodded, and the mechanic's face lit up as if she'd been told the Vulkars had all died. "Then it's great to meet you! Gadon was right when he said you have the look of a rider. I just hope you can handle the stress. . ."

"Don't worry, I'll win," Amira said with conviction. "And I have ridden before."

The mechanic smiled. "Well, I'm Nissa."

"Amira. Pleasure to meet you."

"Well come on, your bike's over here."

Nissa led her through the garage, heading up the back to where a half-constructed swoop bike lay, wiring spewing from its belly. The woman trotted up to an Ithorian who was most likely the head mechanic. She whispered something to him and he ambled over to Amira.

**_"So you're the rider who's going to be taking the modified swoop?"_**** the Ithorian asked, sizing up the dark-haired woman.**

"Yes," Amira replied. "I have experience working as a tech, so I'd like to just have a quick look at the engine. And the rest of the wiring, for that matter."

**_"Don't trust us aliens?"_**** he grunted.**

Amira shook her head, looking slightly insulted but still remaining diplomatic. "Not at all - I just would feel safer, if that's at all possible, knowing that I had checked the insides of the bike I'm going to race with."

The Ithorian took her over to examine the aforementioned swoop. It was obvious this bike was the most important one, as nearly a dozen people worked on it as if they were high on caffa, red cordial or stims. Or all of the above.

Amira smiled and nodded when she got her first good look. "Nice."


	10. The Swoop Race

**Chapter 10 - The Swoop Race**

"You ready?" Carth asked. After a full day of testing the swoop, practicing for the race and fine-tuning the mechanics of the bike, they were finally at the Tarisian Opener.

Amira, who was lazing against her swoop bike, nodded. Then a sly look entered her features. "Worried about me? Oh, how sweet!"

Carth rolled his eyes. "Geez, woman, what is it with you?"

She laughed, obviously relishing his irritation.

"_Yo, you're up soon. Get ready to roll!"_ a Twi'lek Hidden Bek technician called.

Amira checked her appearance once over. Her hair was tied in a tight bun, and she had pinned back her side fringe so it was off her forehead. The two stubborn collar-length locks of hair that normally fell on either side of her face were also pinned securely to keep them out of the way. Amira wore the new clothes she had bought the day before – fingerless gloves, soft brown pants that weren't particularly tight, but weren't loose either, and a black tank top with a similar style of not lose, but not really tight. Her well worn, faded gray jacket remained, though the sleeves were rolled up to her elbows. A pair of knee-high black leather boots completed the look. The primary reason for her different appearance was so it would be harder, though certainly not impossible, to recognise her. That and Amira knew how dangerous it was to have loose hair or clothing while racing.

Carth shook his head. _Women_, he thought as Amira decided she had time to double check her hair and make sure her tank top hung 'just right' over her trousers.

"_Get ready, human!_" the Twi'lek shouted.

"Am I going to get a kiss for good luck?" Amira asked with a smirk, clearly mocking the bad cliché found in so many holovids.

They both knew she had no intention of getting within three feet of him and was just trying to be annoying.

"Just get out there," he growled.

A false look of shock and pain spasmed across her face and she held a hand to her chest. "I'm hurt!"

"Go."

Amira snickered as she hopped in the swoop.

"_Remember everything?"_ the Twi'lek asked, standing beside the bike.

"Yep. I've done this before, remember?"

"_I assume you know how racing works, then."_

"Yep. Go by instincts – by the time you think, it's too late."

He laughed and reached up to clap her shoulder. "_Just remember to win."_

Amira fired up the engine and drove to the starting line as the announcer stated her name and who she was representing.

The red light changed to yellow. The yellow changed to green. Amira didn't bother flattening it, as there was no need for anything really fast until the next round. So she cruised around the course, soaring over the accelerator pads when they appeared and changing gears when she had to. Amira passed over the finish line one second faster than the best time.

As Amira swaggered up the pit, she noticed a cage; inside was the Jedi she was trying to win. Bastila Shan looked much younger in real life than she did in the holovids, Amira noted. It seemed strange that such a youthful Jedi had the talent she was famous for. . . let alone being dressed like a slut and shoved in a cage as a prize.

Amira fought back a grimace as her eyes narrowed. The Vulkars had gone overkill on the joy girl ensemble, complete with a bustier that she suspected had an inbuilt push-up bra, the tightest leather pants Amira had ever seen, cheap bangles and approximately four kilograms of makeup.

Amira studied the Jedi closer, watching how she swayed as if drunk. Her eyes drifted to the neural disruptor collar clasped firmly around the Jedi's alabaster neck. Well, that was going to be a problem. She glared at it, as if her gaze alone could break the disruptor. Bastila's head tilted up slightly as her half-open eyes rose to meet Amira's.

Amira suppressed a flinch and wiped her face clean of any emotion. There was no way she could be aware of anyone. . . was there? Amira looked into the Jedi's clouded gray eyes and wondered.

"_Move along!_" the Vulkar guard barked, breaking the spell. He waved his double-bladed vibroblade menacingly as Amira made a rude hand gesture and turned away. She ambled back to the Bek's area and lazed down on the nearest bench. Amira glanced around for Carth, and when she couldn't see his eye-searing jacket she realised he had probably been kicked out, since only riders, engineers and the race organizers were allowed in the racing pits.

"_Good flying_," said a pretty Twi'lek racer Amira knew to be Anglu. She sat down next to Amira. "_Just like your practices. Keep a clear head in the next heat, though. That's when things'll get tough."_

Amira nodded obediently. She didn't really like it when people told her what to do, but knew the survival of the Beks rested on their victory or loss at this race. So Amira didn't snap any smartass retort.

Over the next hour various riders from many different swoop gangs raced. Not all of them were good, but the best time was slowly whittled down millisecond by millisecond. The Vulkar riders, and sometimes their allying gang riders, would come over to taunt and goad the Beks. Amira sent all of them away with verbal bruises and wounded egos. One particular rider, Redros, got on her nerves as he tried to provoke her with sexist comments. To Amira's disappointment, it was his turn to race right as she was getting ready to smash him in the face.

Amira imagined all the ways she could get her revenge while he participated in his heat, and didn't even notice Redros' time until the Beks around her groaned. She scowled and swore when she saw the time: 24:38 seconds. Two seconds faster than the last racer.

"_And now we have to wait for our turn,_" Anglu said, practically hissing in her frustration.

"_Let's see how many people crash_," Phirk, the rider sitting on her other side, replied.

"Yeah, but it won't be entertaining until we're assured our victory," Amira muttered. And she was right: none of them derived any amusement form the many riders that crashed and burned on the track. The times between each heat grew as the remains of riders were scraped off the track by cleaning droids and a few of the bikes were repositioned as new obstacles.

Eventually Anglu was called for her heat. Amira clapped her on the shoulder as the Twi'lek rose. "Good luck. Don't turn yourself into a pancake."

Anglu rolled her eyes. "_Thanks so much._" She raced superbly, only coming two milliseconds behind the current record, to her extreme annoyance. It took a lot of congratulations and soothing from the Bek riders and mechanics to smooth her ruffled feathers.

Finally Amira's turn came around. Every Bek had something to say to her as she made her way towards her bike.

"Good luck."

"You better win or I'll beat the crap out of you."

"_Don't turn yourself into a pancake._" Amira narrowed her eyes at Anglu, who smirked back.

Amira vaulted over the door and was fastening the clasps on her safety harness when the head mechanic rumbled, "_Don't screw up._"

"The only thing getting screwed up is the Vulkars," Amira replied, sharper than she normally would have.

She drove her bike to the starting line and waited impatiently for the countdown.

Amira knew she was going to have to fly like a maniac, and fly like a maniac she did. The air bit into any exposed skin like a thousand tiny knives as she floored it. Everything was a blur as she made last-second dodges around the debris scattered along the track. Every time a smudge of colour was approaching Amira left her instincts to decide whether it was an obstacle or not. Her stomach dropped and flipped at every accelerator pad she flew over. But the thrill, the sheer feeling of truly flying, was the best high she had ever gotten.

By the end of it, Amira wasn't sure how she even survived. As she sailed over the finish line, Amira eased on the break and fishtailed around to avoid careening into the back wall that was approaching too fast. When the swoop finally screeched to a standstill, she let out her breath and lolled her head back against the headrest. Every nerve in her body was tingling and twisting and she felt like she had left her stomach somewhere on the track. Amira sucked in a breath as the tiny microphone squawked in her ear. She couldn't make out the words, still too far in shock, but did take note of the unbelieving tone.

The panels that were the exit off the track slid apart. Amira started up the engine again, thankful that it hadn't overloaded, and slowly directed the swoop through the opening and back to the Bek territory in the pits. Every pair of eyes watched as she parked her bike and hopped out, legs buckling as they hit the permacrete. Amira fell back against her bike, needing the support more than she'd admit. Her nerves were completely frayed, but it was totally worth it. Amira's world narrowed to her shallow gasping, oblivious to the overjoyed praise being poured over her by the Beks.

Carth had somehow made his way back into the pits, this time with Mission and Zaalbar in tow. They raced over as the other gangs in the pit recovered from their shock and started cheering.

"Can I do that again?" she asked breathlessly, a grin splitting her face in half.

"If you do, I think you'll make both of these guys go prematurely gray," Mission replied with a snicker, gesturing to the men behind her.

Amira appraised both Carth and Zaalbar and smirked. There was a second of silence, and then Mission grabbed Amira in a tight hug. "That was _totally awesome_, the way you rode! I can't believe it! How the hell did you not kill yourself?"

She laughed as the teenager abruptly skipped back, looking a tad embarrassed. "Natural talent."

Zaalbar stepped forward and rested one large paw on her slim shoulder. "_You rode with skill, Amira, though I must admit I was concerned for your life._"

Amira lightly patted his furry paw. "Thanks, Big Z, and don't worry." She looked down at her swoop bike. Black smoke was beginning to spew from under the bonnet and Amira was sure she'd fried the wiring. She hoped the prototype accelerator wasn't beyond repair. "I don't think the bike could handle another heat like that." She looked over at Carth and smirked again. "So, am I going to get that kiss?"

"In your dreams, sister."

She snorted. "In my nightmares."

Carth was about to retort, but the head mechanic raced up and clapped Amira on the shoulder. "_That was amazing! You flew better than people who have been doing it for years!"_

"Thank you," Amira said cockily, bowing.

"_Nobody will beat that time,_" he continued. "_Nobody! You should go find a good seat. There'll be some entertainment watching everyone trying to beat your record_."

She grinned. "Indeed there will be." Amira carefully eased herself off the bike, glad her legs would finally hold her up, then went hunting for a good bench. Her first few steps were a bit wobbly, but then she was fine. The crowd also parted deferentially for her, which was a bonus. Amira's companions were promptly kicked out of the pits by the head mechanic when they tried to follow.

"_Over here!_"

Amira glanced around and saw Anglu waving an arm, sitting on one of the best benches with some other riders. She made a beeline for them and smiled. "Hey, guys."

There were several excited greetings and congratulations as everyone came up to either shake her hand or clap her on the shoulder.

"_You did great!_" Phirk praised. "_We're gonna win now!"_

Amira grinned. "We most definitely are!"

"_Hey, hey_," a Rodian said, catching her attention. "_You want a drink?_"

Amira accepted the canteen from him with a word of thanks. She took a large gulp and choked. It wasn't water, it was _juma juice_. The Beks around her all howled with laughter as she gagged and spluttered. Amira indignantly flipped the bird at the guywho had given her the canteen.

After a minute of laughing, the Rodian gained control of himself and looked at Amira. "_Good trick, eh?_"

"Asshat!"


	11. Winners and Losers

**Chapter 11 – Winners and Losers**

Amira sat sandwiched between Anglu and Phirk with the galaxy's most smug expression on her face. Amira had outdone herself - she had no idea she could even make those last half-second turns and not go out in ball of flames - and knew no one would be able to do better. She watched smugly as many tried and all failed. Three racers died trying to beat her record. Redros tried nine times to beat Amira's time, coming close to crashing on four of his heats before the engine in his bike finally gave out halfway through his last race.

So it was no surprise when the event was finally closing and the Duros announcer was trying to bring some order into the wild crowd in the stadium and in the pits that Anglu jabbed Amira in the ribs and pulled the woman up.

_"You mind if we wing you as you go up there?"_ the Twi'lek asked, eyes glittering with excitement. _"I've always wanted to go on the opener stage, even if it's as an honour guard to the winner!"_

Amira knew she couldn't turn down such an exuberant hope. "Sure," she agreed, looking between Anglu and Phirk.

Phirk grinned. _"Great!"_

_"Will Riders 47, 223 and 189 make their way to the stage?"_ the announcer shouted into the microphone. The crowd in the pits parted respectfully for Amira, her honour guard, and the other two racers that came second and third. Amira was sure that one of the Vulkars' mechanics tried to trip her, though.

A young Rodian wearing the green and black of the Back Streets and a canine-looking Bothan from the Hidden Blades each walked up a different set of stairs on either side of the stage. Amira and her honour guard used the same stairs as the Bothan, on the right side of the stage.

When all of them were standing in the centre and facing the crowd, the announcer awarded the medallions to the respective racers. Then he turned to the crowd in the pits, the microphone and the cameras. _"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the winner of this year's swoop race!_" The Hidden Beks cheered and beat their fists into the air. _"Show some appreciation for the most daring rider this swoop track has seen in years!"_ The Duros turned and addressed Amira directly. _"Your skill and bravery has made you the premier swoop rider on Taris, and brought glory to the honourable Hidden Bek gang!"_ He half-turned so he could address both Amira and the audience. _"Here to present the hefty haul of prizes is Brejik, leader of the Black Vulkars."_

Behind Amira, Anglu and Phirk both tensed. The young leader ascended the stairs with both contempt and fury. Amira was glad she had strapped her vibroblades on before she had come up. Brejik's expression was promising trouble.

He completely ignored Amira, instead turning to the audience and raising his arms to get their attention. "People, listen to me! The 'champion' of the Hidden Beks was using a prototype accelerator - clearly an unfair advantage!"

The reply to his statement was comprised of boos, jeers, shouted profanities and universally rude hand gestures from quite a few people in the crowd. Amira swore so colourfully at Brejik that many members of the mob were quite impressed.

Brejik, however, was not dissuaded and continued, "Because of this treachery, I'm withdrawing my slave from the prize!"

"Try and take her from me, punk!" Amira shouted above the indignant roar of the crowd, drawing her vibroblades with a flourish. Anger surged through her, tempered by steely resolve. Brejik needed to be slapped down, and now was the time.

"I believe _I _have something to say about that," a haughty voice called. Heads turned to the cage as Bastila threw the door open and killed the guard with a neck-snapping kick. She ripped off the neural disruptor with one hand while the guard's double-bladed vibroblade flew into the other.

"Dramatic much," Amira grumbled. She unsheathed her own vibroblades and coiled her body, just waiting for the battle to break out.

Brejik's eyes about popped out of his head. "What?" he gasped. "You were restrained with a neural disruptor! How could you possibly summon the will to free yourself?"

"You underestimate the strength of a Jedi's mind," Bastila said contemptuously.

"Vulkars! Kill these women! Kill the Beks! Kill them all!"

Everything went to hell from there. The Vulkars hacked and slashed in the crowd, not caring who they hit. The Beks were on their throats immediately. The majority of the other racers and technicians sprinted for the exits, knocking over those in front of them in their panic and crushing them to death.

Amira lunged for Brejik but was beaten by Bastila, who had him on the defensive immediately. Amira took a single swipe at him, leaving a bleeding gash along his calf before turning to the closest set of stairs. Brejik was a dead man; she had just wanted to get a hit in to make herself feel better. She now saw to defending Bastila's back by cutting down any Vulkar that tried to ascend to aid Brejik. Anglu was hurling some profanity as her blaster fired relentlessly, Phirk by her side as they covered the far set of stairs. The Rodian who had come third raced past Amira into the real fray, only to be downed by a stray blaster bolt. His body did however knock three Vulkars off-balance, a distraction Amira easily preyed on. The Bothan, on the other hand, stayed by Amira and they worked in tandem, occasionally kicking a body down the staircase to hit an unwary Vulkar.

Brejik's death cry sailed through the air, sealing the fates of his remaining men. Amira glanced over her shoulder, but a hiss from the Bothan brought her back. The closest Vulkars broke from their current fights and lunged up the stairs, their mouths curled into snarls and their eyes full brimming with vengeance. The Bothan was happy to snarl right back, his sharp teeth glistening as he met them full on. Amira adjusted her stance and waited for her enemies to get close. She only managed to knock one off the staircase before realising they were in trouble. The Vulkars were bottlenecked at the moment between her and their abandoned opponents, but many more were approaching and she wasn't sure she could hold this position for much longer.

"Could use some help here you damn Jedi!" she hollered. _What the hell has she been doing, anyway?  
_  
Amira's response was herself and the Bothan being knocked off their feet and a flash of yellow light above her. Amira heard the sound of her head hitting the durasteel before she felt it. Pain exploded across her skull as a starburst of colour flashed before her eyes. She let some foul words slip before regaining enough control to look over in time to see the lightsaber fly back from the smoking corpses on the stairs.

Amira slowly sat up, pressing one hand tightly to the tender spot on her head. _That's gonna __leave a bruise, she thought. _The pain crescendoed for a few seconds, then settled into a steady throbbing.

_"You okay?"_

Amira glanced around to see the Bothan beside her. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks for your help, by the way."

He grinned, showing his sharp fangs. _"My pleasure. I've wanted to do that since Brejik took over."_

Amira nodded and made it to her feet. "I'll give you a piece of advice: high tail it now and forget you ever saw that prize girl or the lightsaber."

_"Will do," _he said, then jumped off the stage and picked his way through the corpses, occasionally kneeling to pocket a few credits or other goods.

Amira looked around for her vibroblades and quickly cleaned them. As she sheathed them, she surveyed the battleground. Beks were robbing the dead or helping injured comrades hobble out of the racing pit. Amira turned, a satisfied smirk forming at the sight of Brejik's body.

"You. . . if you think that you can keep a Jedi as a prize-"

"Can it!" Amira spat, spinning an extra inch to finally see Bastila. "Nice going on your little stunt, by the way. I'd prefer to be off Taris _before_ I get another concussion."

The Jedi seemed derailed at that, her eyes briefly widening as she examined Amira. "You were a crew member on the _Endar Spire_, weren't you? Yes, I am sure of it."

"Good to see you remember who I am, since you're the one who bloody transferred me!" Amira hissed, her eyes narrowing. "Why else would I risk my skin rescuing you?"

"Rescuing me?" Bastila snorted delicately, her fine features twisting in derision. "If I had not been here, Brejik and his Vulkars would have killed you! I'd say that is a pretty poor example of a rescue."

"If you hadn't been here I wouldn't have had to jump through so many fracking hoops!" Amira all but snarled. "I wouldn't have been roped into helping your ungrateful ass get off Taris, I wouldn't have been bitten by a rakghoul and I sure as hell wouldn't be here listening to you disregard everything I've done!"

"Woah, catfight! Where's the holorecorder?"

If it hadn't been Mission who had said that, Amira would have lashed out. "No holorecorders, Mission," she instead said tightly, forcing herself back under control. "We're going." She turned so she wouldn't have to look at Bastila. Not only was she furious at the Jedi, but said Jedi's clothes left a bad taste in her mouth. Amira loathed the way she felt embarrassed for the girl as she stalked for the nearest exit. She hated the concept that women were toys to be exploited, so she could feel sympathy – even grudgingly – for anyone forced to look like a joy girl, even if the person in question was an arrogant Jedi princess.

_To let her stay humiliated or to be nice?_ Amira wondered to herself, fingering one of the clasps on her jacket. _After the way Bastila 'thanked' me, no way._ The Jedi could learn that karma did, in fact, exist. Under her breath, Amira muttered, "I need a drink."


	12. Password

**Chapter 12 - Password**

Mission looked between Carth, Amira and Bastila. Her lekku twitched and curled, the only sign that she was making observations. Carth and Amira she knew already - both had strength, determination and the dignity of leaders, and both clashed frequently. Bastila seemed to turn Carth and Amira's battle into a three-way power struggle.

"Guys," she said, trying to get their attention. None of them noticed - Carth and Bastila were bickering while Amira inserted her own snide comments where appropriate. "Guys!" Finally they stopped and looked at her. "And you call me a kid. . ." Mission grumbled. "Seriously, guys, we can't squabble over who's the leader - we've gotta work together."

"_Mission's right,_" Zaalbar rumbled, resting a furry paw on her shoulder. "_We need to co-operate to plan our next actions. What shall we be doing now?_"

"Finding a way off Taris," Amira answered. "Bastila needs to be as far away from the Sith armada as possible."

"Which means getting a ship and getting the Sith launch codes so we aren't vaporized," Carth elaborated.

"We need to find ship owners, preferably disgruntled spacers that are stuck here because of the quarantine," Amira said. "Strike a deal that we'll get the codes for passage off Taris to the planet of our choice."

Bastila frowned. "I do not like the idea of relying upon outsiders."

"Do you have a ship hidden somewhere?" Amira asked critically. "We'll have to hitch a ride with someone else unless we can steal a Sith ship, which will be even more impossible than breaking into the Sith base."

"I can snoop around the Sith landing pads and slice into their terminals, see what I can find," Mission offered.

Amira nodded. "Sure, why not?"

"Absolutely not!" Bastila objected.

Amira rounded on the Jedi. "Are you going to keep protesting against all our ideas? With all due respect, your highness, we don't have any choice!"

The teenager groaned loudly and rolled her head back to glare at the ceiling as they descended into a fresh argument. Really, how could a bunch of adults be so immature? Couldn't they just grow up and work together, like _sane_ people trapped on a hostile world?

"_Guys!_" Mission finally shouted, her hands balling into tight fists. "Will ya stop fighting for _one freaking minute_ so we can actually come up with a plan?"

Bastila drew herself up and locked her hands behind her back, while Amira crossed her arms. Both were sulking. Carth was the first to relent and support her. "Mission's right," he addressed the two grouchy women, his military mind coming to life. "We need a plan, and to come up with a credible plan, we need information." The Twi'lek perked up at that, hoping he meant what she thought he did. When he looked at her expectantly, a sense of excitement and feeling useful exploded in her chest and she grinned. "We need as much intel as we can get on the ships grounded and who owns them, the Sith base's schematics and defences, the schedule for the Sith ships docking and leaving. From there we can decide what the best route to take is."

Mission nodded determinedly. "No problem."

"Amira, go with her," Carth commanded. "Go put some of those smuggling skills into action." The woman looked ready to argue – _Probably just on the principle of being ordered around_, Mission thought glumly – but the soldier glared and said, "That's an order."

"Aye, aye, _sir,_" Amira ground out with as much sarcasm as she could muster.

Mission couldn't think of a thing to say that wouldn't make the situation worse or awkward, so she just waved to Zaalbar and walked out the door. Amira fell into step a few paces away – years of living on the streets had taught Mission's senses to know when someone was behind here.

The door hissed open and the Twi'lek had to wonder: who was babysitting who?

~.~.~

Mission glowered at the terminal, her lower lip jutting out in pouty anger. "What do you mean 'password required'? That's the whole point of slicing, you stupid computer!"

Her lithe blue fingers, fuelled by indignation, flew over the key panel in search of an override or way around the firewall. It was a _firewall_, for Force's sake! Of course, the easiest way to get past a firewall was to wait for an incoming signal and attach yourself to it, but Mission doubted that would happen any time soon to the lonely terminal on the outskirts of the Sith docking area. And she refused to let a simple firewall stop her, not when this data was so important.

_Request Failure. Password Required._

"I'll show you password required," Mission grumbled, slamming her first against the durasteel. She couldn't fail, not when her reputation was riding on this. If Mission could do this, she could prove that she wasn't a little girl to be coddled, that she could be treated like an adult. Though with the way the humans argued, maybe that wasn't as good as it sounded.

There was another way to slice the terminal she knew, that had been taught to her by Griff. It would work. Hopefully. It had to work.

_Request Failure. Password Required._

"Force dammit!" Mission cried.

"Keep it down," Amira hissed from where she stood guard at the edge of the alleyway. "You'll attract attention."

Mission bit down a sarcastic retort and massaged the bridge of her nose. This was not nearly as fun as it should have been. "I need a damn _password_, Amira."

The good thing about Amira was that she didn't care how much Mission swore, unlike Carth and Bastila.

Amira glanced back out to check if anyone was coming, then marched over to the terminal and had a look. She typed a few experimental commands.

_Request Failure. Password Required._

"I always hate those words," Amira muttered. She leaned back and rested her weight on one hip, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "What about Malak's birth date?"

Despite herself, Mission snickered. Amira's own mouth quirked at the joke, then she glanced down at the terminal. She tried a few more combinations, from using slurs against the Republic and Jedi to 'ilovegizkas'. Nothing worked, so Amira kicked the terminal for good measure.

The Twi'lek scowled at the computer. "Who would have thought a lonely terminal would be so well protected?"

"Maybe people have tried to slice into it in the past," Amira suggested, roughly shoving one of her stray locks behind her ear. "I don't think they would have bothered putting such tough security on it otherwise."

"Yeah," Mission agreed. "I can see the Hidden Beks doing something like that." A bell in her head rang at the thought, and her lekku twitched. The Hidden Beks had to have, so maybe they could go ask Gadon. . . no, that would take too much time with no guarantee of success. And it didn't seem quite the reason why the bell was ringing. The Hidden Beks had disrupted the Sith wherever they could, even ambushing patrols in the Lower City. . . "Aha!" Mission cried. Amira jerked her head to look at the teenager, startled at her sudden outburst. "You have the Sith paper, right? Maybe there's something on there!"

The dark-haired woman's eyes lit up and she scrolled through the files on her datapad for the papers. She found it, opened the file and scanned over the information. Mission moved to stand at her elbow and read as well. Her quick brown eyes skimmed over the boring preamble down to the access codes.

"There!" Mission's lekku curled and uncurled in excitement as she pointed.

_Access code to Sith terminals: HaEYw4e68e42F. Use this to log in to terminals scattered around the Upper City to check shift times and patrol routes_.

"Well spotted, Mish!" Amira praised.

"Let that terminal try to stop me now," the Twi'lek muttered as she swiped the datapad out of Amira's hands and strode over to punch in the code.

_Request accepted._

"Score!" Mission crowed. "I am a legend."

"Hush!" Amira called back. She had moved back to her original position of scout, and when the older woman looked back she grinned at the Twi'lek. "Now get to work."

Mission didn't need to be told twice.

~.~.~

The Twi'lek removed the cable connecting her datapad to the terminal and looked up. "You think that will be enough information?"

Amira glanced back and asked, "You got Sith shuttle specs and landing times?"

"Check."

"Manifest of grounded ships?"

"Check."

"Base schematics and defences? Garrison numbers, shift times and patrol routes?"

"Check, check and check."

"Anything else vaguely useful?"

"Check."

Amira's green-brown eyes were thoughtful, and then she said, "Well, I can't think of anything else. I reckon we're done here."

She held out her hand, which Mission accepted. They activated their stealth field generators and snuck out of the alleyway, past the landing pads and working Sith technicians. None of them noticed the two faint blurs in the air whispering past, or if they did they figured it was just the afternoon sunlight darting between the tall skyscrapers and playing tricks on their eyes.

It was beautiful on the surface, when people weren't shooting dirty looks at you or just shooting you, Mission decided. The buttery sunlight reflected off thousands of windows, sending lances of golden beams in all directions. It hurt to look at, but after years of semi-darkness and flickering neon signs it was a welcome change. The air was, well, not necessarily cleaner, but the wind brushed away the stink of people and engine grease and replaced it with the sharp tang of burnt fuel.

Mission had only ever come to the Upper City a handful of times, when her stealth field generator was working properly and she felt like robbing rich people. And with the worry of Griff, then Zaalbar, hanging over her head she had never slowed down to enjoy the scenery.

Amira tugged on her hand and Mission quickened her pace to keep up. She wondered what other planets looked like – it was hard to imagine a world of trees the size of the skyscrapers such as Kashyyyk, or the endlessly shifting sands of Tatooine. The ground in the Under City was a combination of mud and filth. How any world could be bone dry and mostly dead was a mystery to her.

The Twi'lek's attention snapped back to her surroundings, and she recognised the city square ahead. They were out of Sith-exclusive territory. It was safe to let the stealth fields' drop, which was good because her belt was starting to overheat. Mission sped up further and led Amira to a dark shadow at the base of one of the skyscrapers where several large dumpsters sat. No snob would dare look at a bin at risk of being dirtied. It was the perfect place to come out of stealth.

She almost hesitated, all too aware of the scowls that would soon be shot her way. But uncowed by their prejudice, Mission let her field die. A second later Amira reappeared next to her.

"We're close to the apartment," Amira mused, looking out into the square. It was far emptier than it had been when they first came through, as people were going home in preparation for the curfew. "Actually, it will probably look suspicious if a human and Twi'lek enter an apartment building. I've been spotted as a fugitive before. It probably would have saved trouble to just go all the way back while cloaked."

"My field probably would have died," Mission replied. "It's not that good for long-distance. But another minute and it should have cooled down enough to go."

"I've got something else I want to do before I go back," the dark-haired woman said. "You should probably scram and get the information to Carth."

_Or maybe she just doesn't want to go back, full stop_, Mission thought. Still, she didn't mind. As long as Amira was separated from Bastila and Carth everything was fine. "Alright, see ya. Just remember the curfew." And with that, a blue hand lowered to activate her stealth field and she was little more than a blur crossing the square.

~.~.~

Amira slunk into the cantina, easily spotting her target. The Mandalorian was a hulking mass of armour that would be unmistakable anywhere in the galaxy.

"So, the Mysterious Stranger finally comes," Bendak noted.

"So, the infamous Bendak Starkiller finally notices the woman kicking people's asses," she shot back, winking.

"What's your game?" he immediately growled.

"Oh, not much. Just meeting the top dog and all that."

"I'd be careful if I were you. You barely lasted in that last match, and you definitely wouldn't last in a battle to the death-"

She rolled her eyes and interrupted with, "Let me guess, you're basically gonna say: _ke nu jurkad sha Mando'ade, burc'ya! _You could try something more intimidating, you know." She could almost see his eyes narrowing underneath his helmet.

"_Ne shab'rud'ni. . ._"

Amira bit back a smirk. It was almost too easy to bait a Mandalorian. "Is that a challenge? Or were you just enforcing the rumour that you fight only in death matches?"

"Enforcing the rumour."

_Time to get real insulting_, Amira thought. "Figures. Y'know, I can't understand how you Mandalorians say that the outcome of a battle doesn't matter, and then when you're losing you either cheat or run." She nodded to his armour, which should have been destroyed after the Mandalorian Wars. Amira could guess what expression was on his face underneath the helmet, and decided to push it further. "Though in your specific case it would be fighting in matches specially rigged so a _hut'uun_ like you-"

He slammed her down onto the table, one hand pressing down on her throat.

"You up for it then, Stranger?" he snarled.

Amira stared up at him defiantly. "If you mean 'it' as in a death match, hell yeah am I up for it! However if you are hitting on me, I think I should point out that it doesn't mean to literally slap someone around."

"Suicidal, eh?" Bendak grunted, squeezing her neck harder and leaving definite bruises. "No matter. I'll soon put you out of your misery. Come back in a few days, Ajuur should have it set up by then. Enjoy your last hours alive, _chakaar_."

He turned away and sauntered out, missing the cat-like smirk of victory on Amira's face.

"Really, _are_ you suicidal?" A gruff voice asked as Amira rolled off the table and landed on her feet.

She brushed the broken glass off her jacket, unperturbed. "Not really, no."

"You're either really brave or really stupid, calling Starkiller a _hut'uun_ like that."

Amira looked up, glaring at the new Mandalorian standing in front of her. "Well, Ordo, I have a sharp mind and a sharper tongue. Both get me into trouble frequently."

"And this time you're going to fight him in a death match," he pointed out, raising a salt-and-pepper eyebrow.

"That's what I was aiming for," she grunted. "Or a fight there and then."

"Let me guess: you want to cash in on the bounty," the Mandalorian theorised dryly.

"Bingo. That, and he _is_ a cowardly asshole. Now, exactly what did you come for?"

He looked Amira up and down carefully. "You're crazy," he finally decided. "And that's just what I need."

"Oh?" Amira asked, raising her eyebrows. "Go on."

"Not here," the Mandalorian said. He turned and gestured for her to follow him. Amira was led into one of the back rooms of the cantina, where there was a table and a few chairs. She walked in without hesitation and sat down. He settled down opposite her and said, "I know you want off Taris."

"How, pray tell?" Amira replied, keeping her tone light.

Canderous pulled out a cigar, lit it, and took a slow, leisurely draw. "That prize you fought so damn hard for, that _Jedi_ is Bastila Shan. And I know you want to get her away."

"And what relevance does this have?" she asked, a bit sharper this time.

Canderous leaned forward, his sharp gray eyes boring into hers. "If you're crazy enough to pick a fight with two Mandalorians and fly like that at the Opener, you'll be able to get into the local Sith base and steal the launch codes."

"And what do we do once we've got the launch codes?" Amira probed.

"Ah ah ah," he chided. "Not yet. You get me those codes and I'll get us the ship."

"Does this offer extend to the rest of my companions?" Amira asked, just to be sure.

"Yes," Canderous replied. "Now, do we have a deal?"

It took Amira three seconds to come to her decision. "Deal." She held out her hand.

Canderous shook her offered hand. Amira wasn't surprised in the slightest at the amount of calluses on his palm, nor at the way he tried to break her knuckles. She kept her face carefully blank. Showing any discomfort would lower her in Canderous' eyes and right now she needed his approval.

"To get in the base, you need a top notch astromech droid," Canderous explained, letting her hand go. "Davik ordered one custom built from Janice Nall. Tell her I sent you, and she'll give you the droid. When you've got those codes, go to Javyar's in the Lower City. I'll be waiting."

Amira nodded briskly. "Anything else I should be aware of?"

"Yeah. You need to get the hell out of here. The curfew began three minutes ago."

She could have face-palmed. Or shot him. Either one worked.

~.~.~

"You're back late."

Amira couldn't fully repress a sigh of frustration. She'd spent nearly half an hour dodging Sith patrols and security cameras to be beset upon the moment she walked through the door. The Force obviously hated her right now. "I found a way to get off Taris." And how to avoid an ungodly number of Sith without overloading her stealth field generator. There had been several close calls and Amira didn't know what was worse: the fear or the adrenaline.

"And it involved getting yourself strangled?"

"More or less," she hedged, picking up her towel and heading for the refresher. "We've got to jump through some hoops for Ordo then jump through some more hoops with him to steal somebody else's ship."

"Ordo?" Carth repeated from where he sat on the couch, Mission's datapad in hand. "As in Mandalorian Ordo?"

"The one and only."

"And what were you doing making a deal with a Mandalorian?"

Amira spun around. "Hey, he approached me, I didn't approach him. It seemed like our best bet to get off Taris, so I accepted like any sane person would."

"Like any crazy Outer Rim smuggler would."

"Oh, how you wound me, Carth," she said mockingly, holding a hand up to her heart. Then she turned around and walked into the refresher.

"Wait, how do we get the codes?" Carth called.

"You'll notice I said something about jumping through hoops," Amira replied dryly. The doors slammed shut.


	13. More Obvious Infiltration

A/N: As I hate the Vulkar base, I also hate this base. I seriously didn't understand the logic behind putting the brig in a main room where you couldn't miss it. Granted, this is the Sith we're talking about and it was plot railroading, but still. Also, as a testament of how much I hate writing actions scenes, this spent nearly two months on my hard drive before I said screw it and wrote something crappy so I could get this posted and move on to the good stuff.

**Chapter 13 – More Obvious Infiltration**

"Hey, Mission, could you be a dear and go tell Dia the bounty's off?"

The Twi'lek's head snapped up with a scowl, lekku twitching in annoyance. "Hey, you ain't my mother!"

"Mission, let's get one thing straight between us," Amira said, looking up from where she lazed on the couch beside the Twi'lek. "I'm _not old enough_ to be your mother."

"Still doesn't mean you can patronize me like that."

Amira rolled her eyes. Typical teenager. "Oh, fine. Mish, could you do me a favour and go tell Dia the bounty's off her head?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely. . ." Mission smirked. "Where do I find her?"

"Somewhere in this apartment block. Just ask around."

Mission skipped up to Zaalbar, who was again tinkering with salvaged materials, to carefully take his work out of his hands and grab his paw. The Wookiee allowed himself to be pulled to the door, then they were gone.

Amira stretched out properly now that there was more room and rested the bottom edge of her datapad on her stomach as she read. Carth, Bastila and herself all had copies of Mission's filched data and were separately reviewing it. Or rather, she and Carth were currently reviewing. Bastila had worked for an hour or so then went to take a shower shortly before Amira asked Mission to relay her message, muttering something about focus and projecting. Carth was trying to find plausible routes off Taris while Amira was researching. She had sliced into the wireless holonet – she was almost surprised the apartment had coverage until she remembered Taris had planet-wide transmitters – and done some digging on Canderous Ordo. It quickly became clear that he worked for Davik Kang, the local crime boss. So after a few searches on Davik Kang, Amira learned that he was in possession of the legendary _Ebon Hawk_. Every smuggler worth their salt had heard of the _Ebon Hawk_ – the fastest ship of her kind that traded ownership through theft. One of her old smuggling buddies had once bragged that he had served on the _Hawk_ before they landed on Nal Hutta and were promptly kicked off by the local Hutt's thugs who then claimed it as their own. Amira had never believed him.

After reviewing the landing times of the _Ebon Hawk_, which used to make weekly trips from Taris, she saw that it was indeed grounded with every other craft with a hyperdrive on Taris. It wasn't right that such a magnificent ship – if this was indeed the real _Ebon Hawk_ – to be stuck with the rest of the ordinary ships when she should be out in space dodging Sith patrols and smuggling spice.

At that, Amira began to get suspicious. No, she didn't doubt a Mandalorian would go back on his word, but this was sounding too good to be true. And if Canderous had a comfortable position in the Exchange, why would he want to leave? Was he going to barter with Kang – the codes in exchange for taking the _Hawk_ out on another run and would then drop them off at a world of their choice? Or would they be smuggled off? Or was Ordo actually thinking of the _Hawk_ changing hands permanently?

Well, it was said the _Ebon Hawk_ had never once legally changed ownership. And it was such a fine prize. Maybe Canderous was sick of being stuck in the one place, a sort of cabin fever, and wanted to send a screw-you to the Sith. Force knew Amira did.

Carth broke her concentration by saying, "Well, I can't find any other way to get off Taris quickly."

"Good, because I already agreed to help Canderous," Amira deadpanned. "And after some digging – which now that I think about it Mission could have told me in about five minutes – it turns out Canderous works for Davik Kang, the local Exchange boss, who just so happens to have a grounded freighter: the _Ebon Hawk_. He has a few other ships as well, but none are as small or fast as the _Hawk_. Coupled with the launch codes to get past the dreadnoughts, we could outrun any fighters and make the jump to hyperspace before Malak realises what's happened." She grinned triumphantly.

"Yeah, but that whole plan relies on us getting the _Ebon Hawk_," Carth pointed out.

Amira shrugged. "Easy: refuse to hand over the codes until all of our asses are planted firmly on seats in the _Hawk_."

"Vulgar as ever," Bastila remarked haughtily as she emerged from the refresher.

"Oh, you should see me after I've had a few beers," Amira replied with a small laugh.

"So, exactly what is the plan?" Carth interrupted, with the dual reasons of preventing another fight and actually finding out.

Amira, at least, was ready to be serious for a moment. "Grab T3-M4 off Janice Nall, which is a custom made droid for slicing into the base, and then infiltrate in."

"So you infiltrate the base and then what?" Bastila questioned, icy grey eyes condescending.

Amira shrugged, trying hard not to let the Jedi get under her skin. "Wing it."

"'Wing it,'" she scoffed in that annoying aristocratic voice. "Yes, what another _fine_ plan you have. It is amazing you haven't been killed yet."

Carth resisted the urge to roll his eyes and, deciding he wasn't going to get any more information, went back to his datapad.

"Oi, I made a whole career in winging it," Amira protested. "It's not that hard if you know what you're doing. Only insecure people and dimwits stick to plans."

"Oh, please, will you two give it a rest?" Mission huffed, the apartment door slamming shut behind her and Zaalbar as if it heard her frustration and decided to express it for her.

Carth didn't look up from his datapad as he said, "Seconded."

"Seriously, let's just work out a plan and run with it," the teenager said.

The irony of that statement was that if Carth had said it, both women would have torn him to shreds. However, since Mission said it they acquiesced. For thirty seconds, at the very least.

"Well you just missed that part," Amira replied. "Not that it's very elaborate anyway: grab the droid to slice into the base and sneak in."

Mission nodded. "Open to impromptu change. Cool. So, who's coming?" She tried to keep her voice blasé.

"I was thinking of keeping it small," Amira answered. "Attract less attention getting in and out."

Mission nodded again, this time expectantly. "Yes, and?"

It was obvious to all present that she wanted to be part of the operation.

"Absolutely not, Mission!" Bastila cried.

Amira facepalmed.

"Hey, I ain't no kid so stop treating me like one!"

"This is a dangerous–"

Amira smacked her hand against her head twice more, then sidled up to Zaalbar, who was watching with a silent aura of disapproval. She had anticipated Bastila arguing against Mission's involvement and had decided to not take either of them along. While Amira did argue a lot with Carth, they could stay focused long enough to get the mission completed. There was just something about Bastila that irked Amira and spurred her to react to the other woman's self-righteous comment. She dreaded the thought of having to infiltrate a base with the Jedi at her back.

"Hate to say it, big guy, but you might be a little conspicuous raiding the base. Would you mind stopping those two from killing each other?"

Mission's shout made Amira wince at its volume. "No more dangerous than living in the Lower City and exploring the Undercity, I'll bet! 'Sides, it's the Sith–"

"_I will, Amira,"_ he agreed. "_But you need to work harder to stop these fights from occurring. You're as much at fault as they are."_

"Pardon?" she asked blankly, taken aback.

"_We need a leader. I vowed to follow you, Mission follows you too because of that and Carth will follow you for the right reasons. Step up and give us a leader."_

"With Darth Malak himself orbiting Taris!"

Amira blinked. Bastila's answering snap had gone straight over her head in her shock. "I'll. . . think about that, Zaalbar."

"_At the very least, do not rise to Bastila's barbs or throw bait for her to snap at._"

She frowned, almost petulantly. "Why are Wookies so damn wise?"

Zaalbar chuckled, showing he wasn't going to hold a grudge. "_Because we see with different eyes."_

She decided that was her cue to leave and clapped the Wookiee on the elbow before slipping over to Carth. Mission and Bastila were still going strong, but Amira tuned them out.

"You game, Republic?"

He glanced up from his datapad, took one look that the two females shouting at each other, and nodded quickly. "Let's go," Carth said as he tossed the datapad on the couch and stood. He didn't need to grab any sort of weaponry as he was already armed.

_So there are perks to being paranoid_, Amira thought slyly.

They had made it to the door before Bastila noticed that they were leaving. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To raid some Sith base," Amira replied easily, not looking back. "Toodles!"

"I am coming with you–"

"No, you're not. I made the deal so it's my operation." She cut off any protests with a raised palm and an all-too-cheerful "Later!" as she waked out the door.

~.~.~

The problem with anger was that it could surface at the most inopportune times. Amira parried and kicked out an officer's legs. He fell to the ground and she drove her vibroblade through his unprotected chest. The irritation she had been trying to ignore for the past hour bloomed in the forefront of her mind.

_Fracking Mandalorian! _she mentally snarled, dashing forward to defend her new astromech droid. Amira was not going to let T3-M4 be damaged, not after having to pay a ridiculous sum of credits. A single slash across the chest brought down the uniform-clad technician, blood spraying across the austere floor and her gray jacket.

Amira wasn't sure if she was happy to massacre painfully untrained workers or if she wanted a proper fight.

Her wishes aside, the fight was over for the moment. T3-M4 took the initiative to trundle over to the nearest terminal and slice into it. After a few moments, the droid made a few matter-of-fact beeps, with an inquiring chirp tacked on the end.

"Yes, schematics are good," Amira said, standing from the corpse she had been looting. "Since you asked so nicely, of course you can borrow my datapad." She made her way to the astromech's side and placed her datapad in an awaiting appendage. T3-M4 quickly downloaded the schematics, along other material it seemed relevant, then handed it back to Amira.

She peered over the map, identifying the entrance they came in and the route they had taken to get to their current position. Amira noted they were close to the brig, which was shunted off the side of the complex. "Let's raid the brig," Amira suggested. "See what vagabonds the Sith have hauled in."

"Only if we move quickly, Carth replied. "It won't be long before the Sith raise an organised resistance."

Amira did not want to admit he had a point – her ego wouldn't stand for it, nor did she like believing the Sith had any intelligence whatsoever. So she said, "What are we waiting for?"

Carth set the pace out of the room, pausing only to quickly examine the schematics and allow Amira to take point, but his expectations of the speed they would move had been expressed. Amira obliged, felling the frustration creep back into her veins as she heard the gears in her droid whirl faster for it to keep pace with them.

_Fracking Mandalorian,_ she thought. _Not paid for in full! My ass! He could have afforded that. I'll take my credits out of his hide!_

Carth nailed the two technicians strolling around the corner, who were unaware of the intruders due to T3-M4's earlier handiwork at the main desk.

They took a few more turns through the bland corridors before they saw the reinforced door guarded by droids and security cameras, both of which were deactivated.

The droid whirled ahead of Amira and Carth to unlock the door, beeping proudly when it had completed its slice.

Amira slipped through the door while it was only half open and blinked when she saw there was only one occupant. She blinked again when she realised who it was.

The Duros recognised her at the same time and called, "_You! You helped me before, when the Sith were raiding the apartments. Now I am again in need of assistance._"

Amira cocked her head on the side at the Duros in the force cage. "_How did you get caught?_"

"_Bad luck,"_ he grumbled. _"Another patrol caught me as I was disposing of the bodies of their comrades."_

"_Right. I guess you want to be freed?"_

The Duros pointed at the opposite wall where five panels sat grafted into the durasteel, some flashing red while others flashed green. _"If those panels are all set to green, it initiates the execution sequence. If they're set to red, it frees me. Only if you press one panel, it also flips the ones on either side of it. Be careful."_

Amira stared at the puzzle for about five seconds then stepped forward and slapped three of the panels. "Too easy," she remarked as the force field died. "But I wonder how many Sith get it wrong."

"It's just a convenient way of killing prisoners by 'mistake,'" Carth replied, coming to stand beside her.

"Touché."

"Thank you!" he cried as he stepped out of the cage. "I will be much more careful this time." The Duros stretched thoroughly without fear of being electrocuted.

"The way to the front door should be clear," Carth informed him. "We'll be causing enough of a disturbance that no one should hinder your escape."

"Many thanks again," The Duros called as he ran out the door.

"Let's hope he knows the way to the exit," Amira remarked.

"Yeah," Carth agreed. "Come on, we've got some codes to recover."

Amira shot back cheekily, "Military-speak for steal."

~.~.~

She would have crossed her arms, but as she was currently holding her vibroblades and facing a Dark Jedi – if such a term could be applied – it did not seem to be the smartest of gestures.

Smart action or no, the Sith Governor – Amira really had to wonder how he got to such a position of power – was getting on her nerves.

"My master will surely reward me with a lightsaber for slaying a powerful Force sensitive."

Amira froze. "What?"

Those sickly yellow eyes flicked over her face and his pallid skin contorted in a mocking laugh.

"You never knew? Ha! The Force swirls around you like a hurricane but you are oblivious to it?" He laughed again.

Indignant fury flared in Amira. _Bastila has to know, but she couldn't be bothered to mention it? Schutta! How long was she going to let me run around knot knowing? _"Sorry to disappoint, but you're not going to get that lightsaber." The viciousness in her voice surprise Amira but she didn't try to control herself. "I have a bone to pick."

"Yes," the Governor said slowly. "Do you feel the anger, feel how it powers you? Savour it, for it is the taste of freedom you can have before I–"

Amira darted forward in a low slash. His blade was suddenly in the way. She backed off to circle the Sith and assess her options.

_Get him to turn his back on Carth and T3 to focus entirely on me_, she decided quickly.

"You know," Amira informed the Governor, "if you had a brain you might actually be dangerous."

His grey features twisted in fury. She didn't have time to consider the implications of enraging a Dark Jedi as he lunged.

Instinct ruled Amira's thought. She was using combat forms she didn't even know. But there was no room for question in her mind. Only _block, parry, block, slash, kick, block_. Speed was her only advantage, which put significant pressure to not make a single mistake, or it was all over. One slip up would cost far more than she was willing to pay.

Their blades locked and Amira gritted her teeth against the planet's worth of weight bearing down on her. After only another second she tried desperately to break the lock. His blade bit into her shoulder as she spun away. Amira stumbled from the sudden pain.

The Governor's durasteel-capped boot hit her calf with unnatural force. Her leg collapsed.

Amira didn't hear the crack or her scream or any taunts. She was underwater, ears filled, drowning under waves of agony. Burst after burst of pain consumed her as she gasped for air. Lights exploded in front of her eyes.

The Governor's pallid face loomed close in between the starbursts of pain. "Go to hell," she snarled.

He laughed and held out his hand as if he were going to wring her neck. It was suddenly harder to draw in air, and her breathing became even more jerky and shallow. _Shit_, she managed to think, a new, far more insidious pain mixing with the sharp agony of her leg.

He _was_ wringing her neck. With the Force.

Grey wisps invaded her vision, wrapping around her to pull her into the aphotic pit yawning beneath her. In the darkness, she heard a single shot ring out.


	14. A Bargain's a Bargain

A/N: It has only taken me about two years and fourteen chapters to get off Taris. Sad, huh? I love anyone who is still sticking with this story.

**Chapter 14 – A Bargain's a Bargain**

With a groan, Amira slowly cracked one eye open. "Damn... I think I drank too much."

A quiet snicker made her head tilt towards the sound. There was minor throbbing in her temples, but movement wasn't as painful as Amira expected. She made out a blue blur sitting on the caffa table. "Mish?"

"Right on." She caught Mission's smirk. "Guess how many glasses of Tarisian ale you had last night?"

Amira rolled away from the Twi'lek and threw an arm over her eyes. "Goodnight."

Mission poked her. When that elicited no response, she shook Amira's shoulder, who responded with some choice curses.

"None."

"What?" Amira raised her arm enough to look dumbly at Mission.

"You didn't have any Tarisian ales or other alcohol last night," she clarified with a snicker.

"Ungh." Her arm descended to hide her eyes again.

"In fact," the teenager continued cheerfully, "what really happened was so much worse. Do you remember?"

"We... we got T3. Went to the Sith base and freed that Duros guy and– the governor!" She lurched up, swayed for a moment, and examined her leg. Her fingers found no cast, nor could she find the break. Amira frowned as she gingerly stretched the muscles in her leg. It ached, but there was no pain. Curling her toes, Amira muttered, "Shit, don't tell me..."

Mission winced in sympathy. "'Fraid so."

"_Damn_." Amira hung her head.

The teenager awkwardly stretched to pat Amira's shoulder.

"I'll never live this down, will I?"

Mission shook her head, lekku falling over her shoulders. "Anyway, now that you're up, let's go cook lunch." With a strength that belied her size, she pulled an unresponsive Amira to her feet. "Zaalbar and Carth will be hungry when they get back."

"And where is _she_?" Amira asked as she was led to the kitchenette.

"In the 'fresher. She either needs forever to do her hair or she's sulking about not being let outside again."

Amira smirked. "Or both."

"If I were you, Amira, I would lie low for a while and not rile Bastila up."

Her smirk vanished.

~.~.~

Amira was convinced Zaalbar had a sixth sense that alerted him to when and where food was being prepared, as he and Carth returned the moment the rather bereft sandwiches had been set on the repaired table.

"_It is good to see you awake, Amira_," he woofed.

"Yeah, sleeping on a couch all day isn't exactly my thing," she replied with a smile.

Zaalbar barked an agreement and carefully sat down on one of the chairs.

Carth also had something to say to her, though he was far quieter than the Wookiee. "Have you spoken to Bastila about your supposed Force sensitivity?"

"Not yet," she muttered with a glower at the refresher door.

The Jedi in question emerged only a second later and they broke apart to take their seats. Bastila shot a suspicious glance at them; Amira wondered how she knew they been speaking about her.

Mission and Zaalbar were the only ones who talked during the meal. Bastila occasionally sent a furtive glance at Amira. When Amira wasn't glaring at the tabletop, she was mulling over Bastila's motive for concealing her Force sensitivity.

_This just gets stranger by the day_, Amira thought. _How am I even Force sensitive? I've never felt anything before. But if I am, Bastila has to know. I suppose she didn't tell me because she didn't want me becoming even more cocky, but this is _big.

When Bastila stood, Amira followed suit. "Bastila, I'd like a word." Without waiting for a response, she walked out of the apartment and down the hall to a janitor's closet. She leaned against the door frame and waited for the Jedi to reach her. Ignoring the stare from the shady personal shield dealer, she pushed Bastila in and locked the door behind them. The glow rod above them flickered sporadically, preventing their eyes from adjusting to the darkness.

It was difficult to make out Bastila's expression, so she wasn't able to determine what the other woman was thinking.

"I take it there is something troubling you that you do not wish the others to hear?"

"Why the _hell_ didn't you tell me I'm _Force sensitive_?" Amira crossed her arms and glared at what she thought was Bastila's face.

An insulted scoff rang through the darkness. "When would I have had the chance? Everything was plunged into chaos when the _Spire_ was destroyed, not to mention that we have not been able to conduct a civil conversation."

Amira opened her mouth to retort, paused, and let her mouth click shut. For a moment her glare intensified before her lips twisted into a sulky grimace. A hand rose to massage her brow and Amira's expression smoothed into neutrality. "I like to think I'm a reasonable person," she muttered, "and so I can't argue with that."

"As much as you would like to," Bastila observed.

Amira's hand retreated and a smirk flitted across her lips. "What can I say? I'm always up for a good fight, and being Force sensitive is no small thing. As you should know, Jedi."

"I've noticed your penchant for aggression," she replied dryly. "In all seriousness, however: yes, you are Force sensitive, and I only recently realised it. I can't overstep my authority and say you can be trained, but when we escape Taris we can talk to the Jedi Masters to see what can be done for you. Is that satisfactory, Amira?"

"For the moment, at least, though I'm still ticked you didn't tell me earlier." She turned to leave.

"One more thing, Amira." Amira stopped and glanced over her shoulder even though she could only see Bastila's features for a few moments when the glow rod shone. "I would advise against trying to use your newfound powers in any application. Without any sort of training it often goes horribly awry."

"Noted."

The door briefly stuck as it swished open. Amira noticed the Twi'lek vendor's furtive glance and smiled brightly. "Sometimes the mood hits you and you just can't wait, you know?"

"_What?_"

The Twi'lek nodded understandingly.

"_Amira!_"

The woman in question glanced over at her companion and unsuccessfully fought a laugh at the dark blush staining Bastila's shocked expression. Amira slapped the door panel to the apartment; everyone looked up as they walked in.

Bastila glowered at the laughing woman. "You're-"

"A quick thinker?" Amira interrupted with a snicker. "It would've been suspicious if I didn't say anything."

"No comment was necessary. He would have thought of his own explanation."

"Oh, come on, you know he was thinking it," she grinned. "Besides, you should've seen the look on your face."

"What just happened?" Mission asked, looking between the two women.

"I insinuated we were a lesbian couple to the Twi'lek vendor outside."

Carth coughed to disguise his amusement as Mission let out a peal of laughter. Zaalbar merely shook his head with a sigh.

Abruptly dropping her grin for seriousness, Amira ordered, "Okay, okay, everyone calm down. Now, Ordo will be waiting for those codes. We have a ship to steal and no time like the present."

"What's the plan?" Carth asked.

"A few of us go with Ordo to claim our ship, while the others get to the roof of the apartment. We'll nab the ship and pick the rest of you up before burning sky until we see lines. Everyone happy?"

Carth frowned. "The Sith will notice the _Ebon Hawk_ the moment we pull out of the hangar. We have only a very small window of time to pick everyone up."

"Well, we don't have much choice, do we?" Mission pointed out. "Davik would get suspicious if all of us went to his estate. Whole parties of mercenaries are rare and with his penchant for background checks on all prospective employees it would be too much work to look up all of us. A few people can sneak around easily enough, but it's impossible with a whole battalion."

"_It would also be unwise to reveal Taris' most wanted woman to the Exchange, who would waste no time in delivering her to the Sith,_" Zaalbar agreed.

"I get the picture. There's no other option." Carth briefly held his hands up in defeat.

"What are you worried about?" Amira smirked. "Aren't you supposed to be some crash hot pilot? Top heavy from medals and all that?"

He snorted. "Doesn't mean I enjoy working under the pressure."

"I assume you intend to lead the party going in, Amira?" Bastila asked.

She nodded. "You don't have to worry about me running off with Ordo and deserting you guys because he," she pointed at Carth, "will shoot me if I do."

"That's an overly harsh judgment," Bastila scorned.

"I think of it being an overly blunt judgment," Amira replied dryly. "Besides, it wouldn't be the first time I've been shot at nor the first time Carth has thought about shooting me."

"You got that one right, sister," he replied with a chuckle.

Amira grinned. "See?"

"You seem awfully enthused by the prospect." Carth shot her a wary look, but amusement glimmered in his whiskey brown eyes.

"I'm just happy to be finally getting off this planet." She buckled her vibroblades to her hips and marched towards the door. "Come on, soldier, we have work to do. Zaalbar, you can come with us too. I get the feeling we might need your intimidation. The rest of you collect your belongings and get up to the roof."

The Wookiee grunted his affirmative, grabbing his bowcaster and vibroblade off the workbench as Amira led the way out of the apartment.

~.~.~

Davik Kang's estate had started as a small base in the Lower City and had been continuously expanded and renovated over many years until it intruded on the Upper City. Amira found herself impressed with the craftsmanship of the building; the seams were old met new were impossible to spot. Her boots clacked against the marble tiles as Canderous led them through two separate security checks.

"Does he have these all through the estate?" Amira asked, examining the veins on the polished surface as she walked.

"Yeah." Canderous snorted. "A waste of credits if you ask me, but Davik enjoys flaunting his wealth."

Amira whistled appreciatively. "These must have been imported from halfway across the galaxy. I don't know any marble mining industries near Taris. Also, they make sneaking incredibly difficult – you can hear someone coming from a mile off. Two birds with one stone."

Canderous typed a sequence into a panel set into the door and it snapped open. "We're here."

He led them into an imperious throne room. The ceiling swept away from the floor, rising forty feet into the air; large skylights allowed sunshine to bathe the room in a golden glow, yet Amira noticed the room felt cool. She glanced furtively around for air conditioning vents and found none that were obvious to notice. Seats were scattered around the room, placed so Davik could cater to many people at one time.

In the centre of the room, a solidly-built throne sat on top of a raised dais of black marble. As they approached, she realised the throne had been carved from the marble and flowed seamlessly into the platform. The man lounging on the throne, a scantily-clad Twi'lek kneeling beside him, had to be Davik.

Movement caught Amira's eye and she saw Calo Nord skulking behind the throne. She watched him long enough so there was no mistaking that she'd noticed him before turning her attention to Davik. His springy grey hair was meticulously combed to conceal a growing bald spot on the crown of his head. Purple armour – imposing despite its colour – glittered in the beams of light; Amira wondered if he was still fit enough to wear it in combat or if it hid the signs of old age.

"Well, well," Davik drawled. Cunning brown eyes shone out from the folds of his weathered face, darting over his visitors. His eyes lingered on places where weapons could be concealed before completing a cursory sweep. His gaze became calculating. "What have we here? I'm surprised. You usually work alone, Canderous." While delivered in a casual voice, he spoke with the control of someone who carefully thought over every possible word before opening his mouth.

"Working in a group? You're growing soft, Canderous," Calo sniped from his protected position.

Amira didn't let her eyes leave Davik as Canderous retorted. _He's looking for reactions_, she realised. _Davik makes a comment and observes how others respond to learn about them. And he now knows that Canderous is thoroughly pissed off at Calo's presence, who he feels is a threat to his position_.

Davik held up on hand. "Enough. I will not have my top two men killing each other. Canderous has a reason for bringing these strangers to my estate, I'm sure."

_The alpha has spoken_, Amira thought dryly. _He praised both of them and didn't reveal which one is top of the top to placate them both. He's also too full of himself to ask outright what we're doing here. Not that it matters – he must already know._

"I brought someone who is interested in joining the Exchange," Canderous replied. His words held a sharp, almost irritated edge. It clicked in Amira's head: he knew Davik's tactics and was annoyed by them. "Surely you recognise the Mysterious Stranger, who also won the Opener."

"And participated in the firefight afterwards," Davik said, a small smile tugging the corner of his lips. "You could be a great asset to the Exchange, my dear."

Amira tilted her head in acknowledgement. "I'm glad you think so, Mr Kang."

"Your intent is clear." Davik surveyed her for a few more moments before turning his attention to the men behind her. "However, it raises the question of their presence."

"You could call them my partners in crime," Amira answered. His sharp, dark eyes sliced back to her. She gestured with a thumb towards Zaalbar, "He owes me a lifedebt, and is a wicked shot with grenades and he," he gestured at Carth, "owes me a few beers, but is impressive with his blasters."

"I see," Davik said carefully.

"Whether you choose to employ them or not is entirely your choice, Mr Kang, but either way they're with me. I'm the one who fills out their paychecks." Amira raised her chin a fraction of an inch. She didn't want to challenge him, hence leaving the decision entirely to him, but she wasn't going to back down, either.

"I see," he said again, stronger this time. Davik rose from his throne and descended; the Twi'lek stood but remained motionless while Calo strode just behind the crime lord. Davik stopped in front of Amira, staring into her eyes.

Amira met his gaze evenly, her face impassive.

"Might I know the name of my prospective employee?"

"Nala Haysri, sir." Amira had reservations about using a contraction of her real last name – Haythamsri – but could think of nothing better on the spot.

"Then, Ms Haysri," Davik took her hand and planted a light kiss against her knuckles, "I would be delighted to offer a place in the Exchange for you and your companions. I am confident in your ability to deserve every credit you will be paid, and thus should not be split three ways. Now, do not be alarmed, but I always conduct a thorough background check before officially making offers to be hired."

"What reason is there to be alarmed, Mr Kang?" Amira asked, keeping her face blank.

"Good, good," he smiled. "Come, I will personally take you three on a tour of our facilities here."

As Davik turned his back, Amira glanced at Canderous, who nodded once. Feeling Carth's and Zaalbar's eyes on her back, Amira shrugged and followed the crime lord.

The estate was nothing short of opulent with statues and paintings decorating the living areas, a trophy room the size of a frigate that he had plans for expanding, and a private hanger that rivalled a public terminal in size and number of ships docked.

"Of course, with the Sith occupation my off-world activities have been curbed, but I am hoping to negotiate an agreement with the Sith. If unsuccessful, then I already have measures in place to otherwise obtain the codes that allow safe passage around the Sith ships."

Amira, Zaalbar and Carth shared a glance behind Davik's back.

"And here is my pride and joy." Davik tapped an unobtrusive panel and a durasteel blast window cleverly disguised as a part of the wall rose, revealing a small Dynamic-class freighter snug in an enclosed hangar. It was painted in Republic red and white; a few dents and scars marred the paint job.

"The _Ebon Hawk_," Davik gestured proudly. "She's the fastest ship in the Outer Rim, but I haven't wanted to risk her trying to outrun the Sith. I've installed the latest security measures to protect her. No one gets in or out of that hangar without me knowing about it."

Amira whistled, slowly approaching the window. "That is one nice ship. I wish I had something half as good when I smuggled those weapons through a Mandalorian blockade."

"You used to be a smuggler?"

It was the first direct question Davik had asked. Amira glanced up at him with a cocky grin. "Used to be? I _am_ a smuggler. Getting stuck here on Taris has been a problem, though. I doubt my normal clients will wait for the quarantine to end, and this seems like a better job to take."

Davik nodded in sympathy. "Smuggling can be a tenuous profession without proper business relationships with clients. Perhaps, if your background check comes back clean, I could offer a place on the _Hawk_'s crew for you."

Amira nodded reverently, holding back a smile. "I would love that, Mr Kang."

On the rest of the tour Davik occasionally threw in a seemingly casual question at his prospective employee. Amira - knowing it was a ploy to learn more about her history so he could search her background with more accuracy - responded accordingly with half-truths and full-blown lies.

They ended in the guest wing, where Davik led them to the second-to-last room in the corridor. The door slid open to reveal three freshly made bed.

"And here is where our tour ends. I insist that you stay here while we conduct the background check; I won't accept no for an answer."

"You're too kind, Mr Kang." Amira smiled, but they both knew there was no gratitude in her expression.

Davik titled his head in a half-nod, acknowledging that she knew it wasn't out of kindness that he let them stay in the estate. "The slave quarters are at the end of the hall; feel free to call upon their services. However, I must warn you that if you leave this wing my guards will deal with you most harshly."

The pleasant delivery belied the nature of his words. Amira controlled her expression and nodded once.

"Then I wish you a pleasant stay in my estate." The way he said 'pleasant' made it clear he meant 'obedient'. "Come Calo, let's leave our guests to themselves."

Calo shot a look at Canderous before walking out at Davik's right shoulder.

"Purple armour," Carth muttered after the door closed, blinking as if to remove the disturbing sight from his memory.

Amira coughed; it sounded like 'poofta'. "In all seriousness, though, why the change in behaviour? He dropped the subtlety in the last few minutes."

"Who?" Canderous grunted. "Davik or Nord?"

"Davik." Amira rolled her eyes. "Calo's been acting like an overzealous kath pup all day. I thought he was supposed to be a professional, but there he was fighting for dominance like a young buck."

"Kang starts with the courtesy to lure people into a false sense of security, then establishes dominance. That was to get you used to following orders. But it's not important." Canderous' eyes gleamed. "We're in. Now all we have to do is disable security and the_ Hawk_'s ours!"

Zaalbar barked in agreement.

Amira grinned roguishly. "Let's steal ourselves a ship."

~.~.~

Talking to the slaves revealed that the _Ebon Hawk_'s pilot had been imprisoned for stealing spice, but not much else of interest. One slave managed to give her sketchy directions to the torture room, accompanied by a warning of the favoured implements employed by Davik.

Amira rolled her eyes at her first glimpse of the torture room. A large table sat in the dead centre of the room, four circular restraints jutting up at approximately where one's wrists and ankles would rest. The table was spotless, the polished durasteel gleaming in the red glow rods. Small indents had been cut into the slab to allow blood and other fluids to drain into a shallow moat at its base. A tray rested on a nearby bench, clearly visible to someone restrained on the slab. Implements both sharp and blunt rested in a neat line, giving the impression of surgical precision.

Other vertical slabs lined the walls, with similar wrist and ankle restraints. Two idle torture droids floated at the far end of the room; both combusted in a shower of sparks and twisted metal as Canderous pounded one with his heavy repeating blaster and Zaalbar destroyed the other with a few well-placed shots.

Despite the obvious care taken to perfect the image of the torture chamber, there was a force cage active in the corner with an electrical current surging through a man slumped on the floor of his cell.

"That's Hudrow, the pilot," Canderous confirmed.

Amira made it to the control console in a dozen quick strides and took a moment to orient herself to the foreign controls. The current was set on low power to allow for continuous torture. Higher settings required an overseer to deliver short jolts so that the prisoner wasn't killed or permanently damaged, if that wasn't the intent of the capturer. It wasn't in this case, as she assumed Hudrow would be needed later to pilot the _Ebon Hawk_ again. As her pale fingers flew over the console the field deactivated, taking the electrical current with it.

Canderous stepped forward and thrust his repeating blaster in Hudrow's face. The other man squeaked and tried to scoot backwards into the wall behind him. "The security codes to access the _Hawk_. What are they?"

Carth made a noise of disgust and shot a look at Amira which said 'See? He's a brute.'

"Come now, Canderous," she chided lightly, stepping forward. Zaalbar moved with her, planting himself between the Mandalorian and Amira. "We are civilized creatures, after all." Canderous grunted but lowered his weapon. Her eyes swept over Hudrow. Electrical burns covered most of his skin, varying in degrees of seriousness. His eyes were over bright from building moisture and his muscles spasmed regularly. She knelt down in front of him. "We'll let you go, Hudrow, but could you please give us the security codes for the _Ebon Hawk_?"

"Of- of course!" he stammered. Amira held out her datapad and he typed in a sequence. "Thank you so much for freeing me! It- it was horrible in there. Take the _Hawk_ and do whatever you want with it – you could even ransom it back to Davik and live like a queen!"

Amira glanced down at the code he had given her and nodded in satisfaction. "Thank you, Hudrow. We'll be causing a racket, so you'll have an opportunity to get out of here."

"Thank you again," he breathed, staring at her reverently.

When they exited the torture room, Canderous shot her a glare.

Amira smiled back at him "Score for good cop bad cop. Not that the poor fool needed it, but it worked. We should try that more often."

Canderous snorted, but a smirk crept over his face as he saw Carth now glaring at Amira. "Maybe, maybe not. Depends if I feel like shoving my blaster in their face or not."

Amira bit back the retort waiting on her tongue. "Has anyone seen a security terminal? Disabling the cameras and setting off the fire alarm sounds inviting."

"_We passed one two corridors back_," Zaalbar answered. "_Left then straight ahead_."

"Thanks, big guy," Amira smiled at him. "Let's go."

The terminal was easy to find, and with it Amira wreaked havoc on the estate. She disabled the cameras and first tier of defences around the _Ebon Hawk_ before overloading other consoles, which killed many of the loitering mercenaries. A rumble shook the estate, making the walls tremble, before an alarm activated.

Amira felt three pairs of eyes staring at her and shook her head as she turned to face them. "That wasn't me."

Carth's eyes darkened as his knuckles whitened around his blasters as another vibration made them stumble. "The Sith must be bombing the planet."

Venom-laced instructions on what Malak could do with his bombardment fell from Amira's mouth.

"That's our cue." Canderous hefted his repeating blaster. "I don't intend to go down without a fight. You done, girl?"

"As long as you know where to go, or I'll download the schematics."

"I know where I'm going, runt."

"_Then let's go!_" Zaalbar roared. "_We must get to the others!_"

Mercenaries and servants alike scrambled through the corridors, many screaming and panicking. None paid any attention to what were a few more mercenaries running through the estate. Smoke billowed from the mess area as the rumbling continued, adding to the confusion. Canderous didn't once let his attention waver as he set an incredible pace for the others to keep up with. Amira had the most trouble; while she was no small woman, she was the shortest person in the group and did not have the muscle mass of the others. Zaalbar noticed and picked her up without slowing down.

"No, no, that's oka– never mind." Amira sighed and surrendered to her ride. Her weight made no difference to Zaalbar's speed.

When they reached the hangar security room, the security codes disabled the second, third and fourth tiers of security protecting the freighter.

Amira bit back a sigh of relief as the door to the hangar opened – they were in no way out of trouble yet, but they were close. "We're almost th-"

Davik Kang and Calo Nord looked up at the noise.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Davik asked, mirroring their first conversation. "Thieves to steal my ship."

"You bet," Amira called back, sidling towards the nearest cover.

"You've been cheating me for too long, Kang!" Canderous shouted, punctuated by Sith lasers impacting nearby.

Davik glanced out the hangar bay. "Damn, those Sith are going to bring the hangar down aroun–" He fell backwards, his face nothing more than blackened char.

Carth shook his head. "I don't know whether Ordo was wrong to shoot during conversation or it Davik was stupid to keep talking."

Canderous turned his blaster to Calo. "You're next, runt."

"I've been waiting for a long time to kill you," Calo said evenly, not sparing a glance at his dead employer.

Canderous shot again, accompanied by a cacophony from Carth's and Zaalbar's weapons. An energy shield flared to life around Calo, taking the brunt of the damage before dying. Calo grunted as the next shots drove him to his knees. Amira raised an eyebrow as she watched form her protected position, all but useless on the fight. On any other unarmoured person, those should have been killing shots. She examined his clothing and realised he either had underarmour or his clothes had energy dulling fibers woven into them.

Calo held up a thermal detonator for them to see. "You might have me outnumbered and outgunned, but if I'm going I'm taking you with–"

The building shook as a direct hit loosened a chunk of the hangar ceiling. Calo ran. The rubble crushed him.

"Time to go!" Carth shouted. "Everyone in the _Hawk_, _now_!"

Amira might have disliked military authority, but it was an order she obeyed. They ran up the boarding ramp, Amira shadowing Carth as they ran to the cockpit. He slammed into the pilot's seat and the _Ebon Hawk_ lifted off in seconds as his hands flew over the controls. Amira landed in the co-pilot's chair and punched in the access codes to disable the Sith warships' autofire, then she sprang up and ran back to the boarding ramp.

A minute later she felt the _Hawk_ slow and stop altogether as the ramp lowered. Bastila and Mission stood at a broken window on the penthouse level of the building.

"This isn't the roof!" Amira shouted as Bastila threw their gear onto the ship with the Force; Zaalbar managed to catch every bag in a feat of dexterity.

"It's too dangerous up there!" Mission shouted back before throwing herself up. Amira lunged for the teenager and pulled her to safety. She heard a yelp of protest and jerked her head around to see a red-faced Bastila land squarely in Canderous' arms. Amira grinned for a moment, then carefully put Mission down.

Canderous growled at Mission to get to the main hold. Bastila had already vanished but her voice was clear as it rang thruogh the corridors

"Carth, what are you waiting for? Go already!"

"_Ori'buyce, kih'kovid_," Canderous muttered, and Amira bit her tongue to fight back a snigger._ All helmet, no head – a fitting description of Bastila_, she thought as she followed the Jedi at a slower pace_._

It was out of her hands now; all Amira could do was ignore the tension curling in her chest and the instinct that screamed at her to _do something_ and instead pray to the Force. _Okay, so I'm apparently Force sensitive_, she thought. _Help me now and get us through this alive! Hell, if you do I'll even become a Jedi out of gratitude!_

As she reached the cockpit, she saw the glittering black emptiness of space and a small sigh escaped her. She hadn't realised how much she had missed space until she was reunited with it. A large Sith warship – Amira had never seen that class before – loomed in front of the viewport and the_ Hawk_ darted below it at a speed not considered safe.

Proximity alarms began blaring; Bastila laboured over the co-pilot's console to determine the problem.

"Sith fighters!" she reported.

Amira ran to the cockpit door and shouted, "Canderous, turrets!"

Canderous' sneer echoed not through the corridors, but through the _Hawk_'s intercom. "_Already there, girl._" Almost immediately one of the Sith fighters exploded into a ball of fire.

As Amira was leaning over to press the 'talk' button so she could make a smartassed reply, she noticed how pale Bastila was. The Jedi was pressing buttons frantically, sweat glistening on her alabaster brow. "Princess, out," she ordered. "I'll take over."

Bastila made no reply.

"Get up, go, scat! Go lie down or something before you faint," Amira snapped, grabbing Bastila's wrists and forcibly removing her from the chair. The Jedi spluttered and argued to no avail. Amira didn't let go until she had led Bastila to the doorway, so she could lean on a wall, then Amira fell into into the co-pilot's seat as the _Hawk_ lurched.

Carth didn't look up at his new co-pilot as he asked, "Amira, do you know how-"

"I know enough." Amira focused on the consoles that were lighting up and making different noises. Canderous whooped through the intercom as Amira watched the last Sith fighter explode brilliantly. A quick check of the proximity radar told her there was nothing in the way of a hyperspace jump

"Carth, we're clear!"

The _Hawk_ gave a small lurch and the stars turned into streaks.


	15. Intermission

_A/N:_ Happy Easter if you celebrate it :)

**Chapter 15 - Intermission**

As she walked out of the cockpit Amira took a bit of time to explore the nav room a few paces down then continued on. Amira could hear someone crying and felt her heart go out to Mission. No one else had liked Taris, but to the Twi'lek it had been home. Amira walked into the main hold to find Bastila practically passed out on one of the couches bolted to the floor. She sighed. Someone was going to have to drag her to a proper bed, and she doubted anyone besides Zaalbar would even consider it. However, the Wookiee had his hands full with Mission, which left only Amira. She sighed again.

"Hey, Canderous." Amira clicked her tongue to get his proper attention, as the man was digging through the food stores in one of the galley cupboards. He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Are there dorms on either side of the ship?"

"Yeah," he replied gruffly, then dove back into the food stores.

"Okay, starboard is the girls', port is the boys'," she called then hauled Bastila up, slinging one of the Jedi's arms over her shoulder and half-dragging the Jedi to the starboard dorm.

Zaalbar stood up, cradling Mission in his arms, and followed the black-haired woman.

~.~.~

"To the fine death of Davik Kang and Taris," Canderous intoned, holding up his mug.

"Don't let Mission hear you say that about Taris or she'll go beserk," Amira warned. "And I'm fairly certain this is the seventh time you've drunk to Davik's death, Canderous. But what the hell." She clanked her own glass against his and they both took a swig. Amira wiped her mouth on her jacket sleeve an said in an undertone, "Not that I'm complaining about either of them, of course. I'm not surprised Malak bombed it. For once it seems he was in the right. Don't tell Carth I said that or he'll probably point a blaster in my face and call me a Sith spy."

Canderous wasn't paying attention to his companion's words. "The circumstances of the battle weren't honourable, but the fight itself was glorious! Kang and Nord are dead! That's what you get when when you mess with _Mando'ad_."

Amira looked at him over the rim of her glass and rolled her eyes at his expression. Canderous was definitely reliving the final moments of Davik Kang and Calo Nord. "I know how you feel – I'm glad Holden and all those other bastards are dead."

"Should've killed him yourself, girl," Canderous growled.

"Trust me, I wanted to," Amira growled back, then took a drink. "But if Dia got a bounty put on her head for cutting him with her vibroblade, then what would have happened to me? Either you or Nord would have been sent after me, and we wouldn't be here now."

Canderous grunted in response, then lifted his mug to his mouth and skulled it."Yo, you bucket of bolts, get in here now!" he shouted.

T3 trundled into the galley, a bottle held in one of its appendages as it bleeped quiet droid-curses. Amira was horrified. She swept her feet off the table and leaned over to snatch the bottle from the droid. "Canderous, you _do not_ use my expensive droid as a fracking _bartender!_"

He was unaffected. "Not much else for the trash compactor to do."

"Um, maybe _repair _the bloody ship since we're in here getting trashed!" Amira snapped. "Force knows we took hits from the Sith fighters!"

"Hey, why so pissed? Is the whiskey kicking in already?"

"Well since you didn't bloody bother to pay in full for T3, he's mine and I say he will go and do what he's made to do."

Canderous snorted, grabbing the bottle from her hands and pouring himself another drink. "So that's it? You're bitter you had to pay for the expensive-as-hell droid?"

"I spent hours earning those credits!"

"Yeah, by beating the ever-loving crap out of people," Carth pointed out, poking his head into the room.

"Eloquent word choice, Carth." Amira rolled her eyes

"I found a job for T3," he said. "I think it'd like it better than serving alcohol."

"Go on, little guy," she said to the droid, motioning for it to go. "And if Canderous or anyone else tries something derogatory like this again, come and tell me."

T3-M4 chirped thankfully at her, then followed Carth out.

Canderous laughed boisterously. "You have a soft spot for a piece of _metal!_"

Amira pounced on him from across the table, sending both of them sprawling.

"A _trash compactor!_" he guffawed.

"I'm sure you loved your _b__es'uliik _very much," Amira growled, smacking him soundly on the chest.

Canderous laughed at the blow. "Is that the best you can do, girl?" he taunted. "I doubt you could beat any Mandalorian."

That tickled something in her mind. "Dammit!" Amira hollered, one hand rising to smack her forehead.

Canderous raised one grizzled eyebrow as he took his seat again..

Amira sat slowly. "I organised a death match with Starkiller and I never showed! Shit! I was going to kick his ass up and down the arena!"

"If you had fought Starkiller, none of us would have made it off Taris. There wouldn't have been time to make it to the _Hawk_."

Amira frowned at him "I thought you guys were all about honour. Dying with honour is better than living in dishonour and all that."

"Except there's no honour in falling victim to an orbital bombardment. We live for the honour of combat – there's none to be gained or lost when you can't fight back. Yes, you didn't show up to a duel and yes, that leaves its mark on your honour, but we had more important things to do." Canderous took a large swig.

"I can live with that." Amira followed suit, taking three large gulps of her drink. "So how are we going to divvy everything?" Amira asked. "You and I both stole the ship, so what are we going to do now?"

"We both stole the ship, so we both own the ship," he answered flatly. "Every decision regarding the _Ebon Hawk_ has to go through both of us."

Amira nodded. "That's acceptable." She held out her thin, white hand and they shook.

"_Haat. Ijaa. Haa'it._"

Amira spoke the words at the same moment as Canderous, whose steel grey eyes bored into her. She met the Mandalorian's gaze evenly as their hands dropped, daring him to comment. He remained silent.

"Now that I'm somewhat drunk, I think it's time for an unpleasant conversation. Chances are I won't remember it in the morning." Amira stumbled as she rose, her bony hip jabbing into the side of the table and eliciting a hiss from her.

Canderous' rumbling chuckle followed her as she left the galley, one white hand drifting along the durasteel wall. The ship was small, but Amira was unfamiliar with it and wandered until she found the starboard dormitory. The door hissed open, letting the dim corridor glow rods creep into the dark room. Mission had deactivated the dim floor guide rods and her bunk light was switched off.

Amira squinted into the heavy shadows, waiting for her eyes to adjust. She could make out Mission on the furthermost bunk, which made her knees wobble with sudden uncertainty as to whether they could take her that far. Unable to tell if the teenager was awake or not, Amira gripped the door frame as she wondered whether to risk waking Mission up or not.

_What about using the Force?_ she wondered. _Can't Jedi sense stuff like that?_ Amira shut her eyes and concentrated, then realised she didn't know what to focus on. _What the hell. I have no idea what I'm doing._

_Screw it. I'm drunk and I don't want this talk completely sober_.

She rapped her knuckles lightly on a wall panel. "Hey, Mish."

"Oh, hey." Mission couldn't keep the dejection from her voice. She wasn't crying, which sent a jolt of surprise through Amira. The teen had been distraught at the prospect of losing Zaalbar, and had been crying earlier. _Maybe she's cried herself out already. I hope so._ Amira slowly made her way across the room and sat carefully down beside her.

Mission looked over at the older woman. "Don't tell me you're gonna ask if I wanna talk about Taris or anything like that?"

"Pfft," she scoffed. "I don't talk about my problems, so I'm not about to ask you to. It's just that I've learned from experience that there are times to mope alone, and there are times to mope with someone nearby."

Mission's nose wrinkled as she smelt the alcohol on Amira's breath. "So this is a time to mope with a friend?"

Amira shrugged. "I don't know; you tell me. While Bastila and I will respect your privacy, there aren't many good places on this ship to sleep aside from the dorms, you know?" She let the corner of her mouth kick up in a small smile. "It's good for you to grieve for however long you need when you've lost something of importance, but there is a point where you've just got to let go and move on with your life."

Amira stood up, cursing as she stumbled. "Damn, I need to sleep this off. Tomorrow's going to be hell."

"There are three other bunks," Mission gestured behind her. "I don't mind as long as you don't snore."

Amira laughed. "Not that I would know if I snored."

A frown split Mission's face before she rolled over. "Go sleep it off, Amira."

Pleased with herself for navigating what could have become a disastrous conversation, a feeling that was heightened from the alcohol singing through her bloodstream, Amira stood and let her legs take her to one of the bunks. She crashed face first on the pillow and kicked off her boots. Rolling over, Amira closed her eyes and drifted slowly into sleep.

~.~.~

Mission had been right when she had described Zaalbar as the 'strong, silent type'. Amira and Zaalbar were taking an inventory of all the supplies on the _Hawk_. They were currently in the cargo hold, rifling through storage containers to see what they had. Zaalbar was silent as a ghost, and Amira didn't feel like talking. There was something relaxing in the mundane job after their hectic time on Taris. Amira managed to slip into a state where her mind was working as little as possible while her hands ran on autopilot.

"Amira?" Bastila called.

She snapped out of her trance with a start and looked at the doorway. Her nerves tightened at the realisation that she hadn't heard the door open.

The Jedi took it as an invitation to speak. "Would you like to meditate with me?"

Amira was intrigued by the offer. She was curious about anything Force-related, since she apparently had a connection to the Glue of the Galaxy. And she was also surprised Bastila had offered - neither of them liked the other much. She supposed it could be the Jedi's way of thanking Amira for hauling her to the dorms when she was sick. She looked back at the supplies and Zaalbar and bit back a sigh. "We have work to do."

Bastila shook her head. "There will be time to finish inventorying later."

"What do you think, big guy?" Amira asked the Wookiee. She wasn't about to abandon him without his permission.

"_Go on_," he woofed. "_It is as Bastila says: there is time for both._"

So Amira followed Bastila into a small storage room, devoid of any cargo, off to the side of the cockpit corridor. The Jedi folded herself down with the imbued grace of a nexu. A flick of her hand invited Amira to be seated. She lowered herself to the ground and mimicked Bastila's position, crossing her legs and resting her hands palm-up on her knees

Bastila looked her over, nodding faintly to herself. "Don't slouch," she critiqued. "Straighten your shoulders."

Amira bit back in instinctive protest and made the corrections to her posture.

"Also, you need to relax. It is difficult to meditate when you are tense."

"I thought meditation was a relaxation technique in itself," Amira retorted.

A delicate scoff hung in the cool air between them before the Jedi explained disdainfully," Meditation is a technique that requires the discipline to relax the muscles and mind on command. While it is effective as a process to unwind after stressful times. The skills behind it are far more valuable."

"Right," Amira ground out. "I'll relax when I know what I'm doing. Can we get on with it already?"

"You mustn't be so impatient," Bastila chided, raising an alabaster hand tipped with perfectly rounded nails as if she could halt a charging rancor. "First, I need to know if you've felt the Force or called upon it at any time you remember."

"What, you mean like tingly feelings, ESP or telekinesis?" Amira frowned, reviewing her failed attempt the previous day, the events on Taris, and even thought through earlier years. "Nope. Not that I remember."

"You're sure?"

"Damn sure, princess. I don't think it's something I'd forget easily."

Bastila's intake was sharp as a knife, yet it was her only outward reaction. "I see. Without having actively felt the Force, you believed the Sith quite quickly, don't you agree?"

Shaking her head, Amira turned the question over in her head. That was true – she had believed the governor immediately. She considered why. "Because when he told me, it was a comment on how much better it would be to kill me because I was Force sensitive and therefore more of a challenge. That's generally not something you lie about. Bastard sounded quite gleeful."

"I see," Bastila repeated. One wrinkle creased her brow. "You must have been unconsciously leaning on the Force, then. I find it difficult to believe you and Carth could have achieved what you did in that time frame without any influence from the Force. It is certainly not unheard of for Force sensitives to draw on it without realising it."

Amira sighed and dropped her chin into one hand.

Bastila cracked a smile. "Bored of theory, I take it? Very well. Close your eyes – and they must remain closed. Sight is a distraction."

Obeying, Amira drew in a deep breath to drown out the tiny instinct in the back of her head that squirmed at leaving herself vulnerable.

"Listen for your heartbeat."

It was a simple task given her heart rate was slightly accelerated, thumping steadily through her chest.

"Turn your thought inward. Your heart is your life. Feel every pulse pushing and ebbing under your skin. Feel every life-sustaining beat. Listen for your blood; _feel _it in every part of your body. Feel your life."

Amira let out a quiet breath, feeling the tiny pulse in her wrists and imagining blood flow to the tips of her fingers where she felt more pounding. She raced with her blood as it rushed out of her hands and up her arms. Simultaneously, she was also tracking the blood carrying oxygen to her brain and spreading though the muscle tissue in her calves.

"Now, ignore your heartbeat and listen for the thrum of your life force itself."

The solid beat was impossible to drown out now that she was actively trying.

"There's a greater purpose to the blood in your body – it is giving you life."

Amira focused on her blood as it danced under her skin, and stretched her senses to feel the buzz of her muscles and the heat curling in her chest. Together they created a pleasant hum that sang not just in her head but all around her.

"Now what?"

"_Just listen._"

Were those words uttered aloud or whispered inside her skull?

Her breathing was slow, air whispering in her lungs, lingering, then being released. On her exhale, when that breath mingled with the outside world, she was connected to the universe. On her inhale the universe was connected to her. Outside awareness returned, albeit in a strange way. Noises were were simplified to vibrations; basic sensations. They didn't sound like anything she had ever heard. She couldn't recognise their meaning. Some were soft whirs while others were quick, hard thumps. One rang above the others, not through its pitch – which was actually quite low – but through the length of each oscillation, like a keening wail.

One of the soft whirs swelled, becoming a large, insistent bundle of life. She hadn't realised how close it was. It drowned out the others, like the fade out of a prerecorded cantina song.

_Come_.

Amira jumped, snapped back into awareness like the release of a taut rubber band. Pain lanced through her skull and she cried out. Each shallow breath cut through her chest; each thought was a blade that lacerated her tender mind. A hand settled on her shoulder and the presence dulled the knifing sensations of her body. Slowly, it pulled itself away with an unwillingness to peel back a blanket protecting one from a cold room.

"Next time, do not break out of meditation so suddenly," Bastila chided softly as she withdrew her hand.

"Force, Bastila, don't start talking in my head like that," Amira rumbled, rubbing her forehead with a white hand.

"I apologise," the Jedi said stiffly. "In the future, resurface slowly from meditation. Only with practice can you enter and exit meditation in a heartbeat."

"And without splitting your head in half," Amira moaned.

"Do not be so melodramatic," she scoffed. "Anyway, that's enough for today, I believe. Do not attempt this or any other Force usage on your own. You are painfully untrained and accidents do occur until a Jedi learns control."

"Woah, woah, woah, who said anything about me being a Jedi?"

"I did not mean the phrase in that way," Bastila dismissed with a flick of one delicate hand. She closed her eyes and stilled again, signaling the end of their conversation.

Amira snorted and rose onto her feet. The door hissed open at her command and she paused in the main hold for a few moments to remember which way she needed to go to find the starboard dormitory. With a shrug, she picked one corridor and followed it.

Amira trailed a hand down the corridor, white fingers splayed and brushing over the wall as if it were guiding her. The durasteel panels were cool under her fingers until she reached the middle of one corridor. Heat nestled in the metal, nipping her calloused fingers. Amira paused and drummed her nails against the wall, cocking her head on the side. With a surreptitious glance to either side of the hallway, she leaned forward to press one ear against the paneling. The heat, irritated at being disturbed, scraped the sensitive skin of her cheekbone. Under the wall, machinery clicked and pulsed; a heartbeat completely alien drummed to a rhythm Amira couldn't fathom.

With a smile she murmured, "You're a good little ship."

She pushed off from the wall and continued. Watching her feet, Amira listened to each step reverberate through the floor plating before planting each foot with measured precision to reduce the amount of noise. The wall abruptly vanished and Amira fell sideways. Desperate hands clawed at the air, catching a ladder railing. Steadying herself, Amira glanced around to ensure no one witnessed her fall.

The ladder extended both above and below the floor, cutting through the circular ceiling and flat floor to meet with two hatches. Amira climbed down the ladder and opened the lower hatch. She dropped into the turret control. The blue and white streaks of hyperspace burned her eyes despite the tinting on the curved windows. Amira held up a hand until her eyes no longer pricked from tiny stabs of light. The stars around them were caught in an eternal race to put themselves get as far away from the _Hawk_ as possible. She sprawled in the seat, wriggling until the thick stuffing moved enough for her comfort. Amira's hand ran over the leather armrest, its texture gliding over her fingers, so unlike the durasteel earlier.

The turret controls were lit from all sides by an ethereal glow, leaving few shadows to contrast with various shades of blue, teal and grey. Amira examined the control panels to determine the safest place to put her feet and was satisfied to find the upper edge of the panel at a steep enough angle so she wouldn't knock any buttons by accident.

With a tired sigh, Amira relaxed into the seat. She had felt the Force. She had felt her companions through the Force. Amira shook her head in wonder. The buoyancy of meditation – the freedom as she released herself from the trappings of her body. It had been amazing. The end had been horrible, and she didn't want to try meditating again any time soon, but the euphoria that was slowly sinking into her nerves would last her for quite a while.

_Maybe that Jedi stuff isn't so bad_, Amira mused. _As long as I don't end up shoving a lightsaber up my ass. Just imagine what_ else_ I can do with the Force!_

The stark memories of her meditation session, both good and bad, chased themselves around her mind and put up a valiant fight until exhaustion won out and her eyes slid closed.

Amira groaned as she woke. Her back complained loudly, shouting the amount of time she had slept. She stood stiffly, feeling a few cramps tighten her shoulders and legs, and gingerly stretched until her muscles regained their elasticity. Amira climbed up the ladder and paused to enjoy the aroma of hot food, which led her to the galley. There was a pot containing a synthesised gunk that could have been porridge and had been doused with spices for flavour. Her stomach clamoured like a starving kath hound and Amira served herself a generous portion. When she turned to race towards the table, Canderous blocked her path.

"If you don't move I will hit you where it hurts," Amira warned.

Canderous shifted his feet so they were shoulder-width apart and curled his hands into loose fists. "Just try it, runt."

She placed her bowl on the counter and threw a low punch to distract him and smashed her left fist into his solar plexus. It was like hitting a granite cliff face; Amira bit back a cry of pain and gritted her teeth. Canderous stumbled back half a step with a surprised 'oof'. She wished it had knocked him back further, but the throbbing in her hand told her that her hand would be broken if she had hit any harder.

Canderous grinned wolfishly at her. "Want another try?"

"If I may point out the inequities between Mandalorians and near-humans allows you to mock me while in an incredible amount of pain," Amira retorted, flexing her left hand. Her knuckles screamed at the movement, louder than if she had punched a durasteel wall.

"Ha! Maybe if you did more hitting and less talking I would be in pain."

"Not exactly smart to hit a Mandalorian first thing in the morning, Amira," Carth chortled into his caffa.

She smiled, the gesture to show her teeth rather than convey amusement. "The most important rule of living on the Rim is this: always be ready to follow through on your threats." Sweeping the chair out with one foot, she dropped down and sprawled. Carth didn't respond and the galley was quiet, for which Amira was thankful for as she wolfed down her breakfast.

"Hey, girl," Canderous drawled.

Amira sighed and narrowed her eyes at him. "What?"

"Did you ever fight in the Mandalorian Wars?"

"Not as a soldier," Amira replied, picking up her glass and taking a swig. "But I'd have to be on a core world or a pacifist Jedi to not have fought you guys at some point."

"What battles?" he pressed.

Amira glared, a cross between derision and anger. "The little stunt you guys tried to pull – taking non-Republic worlds right at the fringes. That was the worst luck I've had in years. I was on five of the Rim planets you guys attacked at one point or another."

Carth looked at her carefully. Amira could feel his gaze through the swoop bike; the Force twinged, confirming her instinct. "You never wanted revenge? Never wanted to spare other planets the same fate?"

Amira shook her head. "I've lived on the edge of known space for most of my life, and I've even ducked into the Unknown Regions once or twice. Pirates raid worlds all the time. People are mowed down in blaster fire nearly every day. It doesn't matter who is in power, whether it's the Republic, the Mandalorians or the Sith. We're always the ones that burn."

Canderous shrugged, unaffected, but neither man replied. Amira rolled her eyes and left the galley.

"Don't go too far, Amira," Carth called.

"Why not?" she groused, slamming her bowl on the galley counter.

"We're close to entering Dantooine's orbit."

"Instead of going back to sleep?" Amira asked, her lips folding into a pout as she turned to face him. "It's not like I've never seen a ship enter atmosphere before."

He shrugged. "Don't shoot the messenger; it's not my call. Bastila wants you there."

With a sigh and an internal promise to give the Jedi trouble, Amira trumped into the cockpit behind Carth.

"Amira," Bastila greeted coolly without turning form the co-pilot's chair. "There are matters to discuss."

"Yeah," Carth agreed as he took his place in the pilot's chair. "Bastila thinks we should stay here – she believes we'll be _safe_."

"Hey, you can multi-task," Amira cried, feeling her eyelids grow leaden as her drowiness madea comeback. "That's unusual in a man." She sat in the nearest seat as the descent angle steepened.

Carth made no reply as he guided the _Ebon Hawk_ down to Dantooine's surface. Bastila hailed the Jedi enclave and secured permission for them to land at the Jedi's private hangar. The moment the _Hawk_'s struts settled on the concrete landing pad Carth turned in his seat and shot a dark look at Amira.

"Carth, please see reason." Bastila raised an imperious eyebrow. "Dantooine is a secret academy and many of the order's greatest masters reside here. It is a place the Sith would think twice at attacking."

"Actually, it would be the first on my hit list," Amira replied blearily. Despite her uncooperative eyelids and the fog on her mind she noticed the odd look Bastila shot her. "If Baldylocks was a Jedi then it's good chance he knows the location of many secret enclaves. Didja ever think of that, princess?"

"Exactly," Carth agreed, crossing his arms over his chest and making Bastila the new victim of his ire. "You saw what Malak did to Taris – there isn't a building over two stories high left standing! He'll do the same thing to Dantooine if he gets the opportunity and you're _giving_ it to him, Bastila."

"Have trust in the Force, Carth," Bastila said chidingly. "Malak cannot possibly know where we fled to."

"It's called the Force," Amira muttered.

"We need time to recover after the events of Taris and the Dantooine academy is a place of spiritual healing. Not to mention there are other matters on which we need to consult the Jedi Council." Grey eyes flicked sideways to Amira. Carth followed her gaze.

"Hey hey hey, don't look at me," Amira protested.

Carth almost cracked a smile. Amira was glad he didn't for the safety of his face, which had the possibility of breaking under the strain. "I suppose we could use some time to unwind – I know Mission could use a change of scenery. It isn't easy to witness the annihilation of the whole planet. But for the sake of Dantooine, we can't stay for long."

Amira grumbled, "How long is long?" Louder, she said, "We're here now, aren't we? Can't this argument wait until I'm coherent?"

"And not taking potshots at both sides," Carth added.

Amira shrugged. "You're both being ridiculous."

Bastila raised an elegantly disdainful eyebrow. "Perhaps you are the one being ridiculous."

"Better be careful, princess, or you might get a brow wrinkle."

The Jedi closed her eyes and took two deep breaths before saying curtly, "I will inform the Council of our presence and debrief the Taris mission. Carth, you may wish to make your report over transmission to the Republic Navy."

"I'm too old for this crap," Amira muttered, running a hand over her face. A glance out the viewport told her the academy was on the side of the planet that was currently on its night cycle. "The masters wouldn't be awake, princess. This is an unholy hour local time and they definitely need their beauty sleep."

"The masters do not shy away from being roused if the reason is great enough."

"Yeah, well I wouldn't want to be roused by an arrogant Jedi princess," Amira mumbled. Shaking her head, she stood and made her way to her bunk as the_ Hawk_ swooped into Dantooine's atmosphere.

~.~.~

_[... Bastila had many questions for the Council, swirling around her head. Such as why Amira had developed a connection to the Force. _The Council blocked her powers, _she thought_, for Force's sake!

Wait..._ Bastila thought over her word choice. Blocked. Not severed. Blocked. To sever one completely from he Force was a punishment rarely deserved and even more rarely used._

_The Jedi blinked. She had just answered her own question...]_

Amira rolled over with a groan. Her mind made no sense of it, couldn't decode it into something understandable. As she drifted into oblivion again, the imprint faded from her memory.

~.~.~

_Bes'uliik_ – Basilisk war droid

_Haat. Ijaa. Haa'it _– "Truth, Honor, Vision"—said when sealing a pact

_Mando'a_ found on Wookieepedia.


	16. Meet the Council

**Chapter 16 – Meet the Council**

_[Come, Amira. The Council wishes to speak with you.]_

Amira jolted into full awareness with a yelp. "Piss _off_!" she cried, white-ringed eyes darting around to find the Jedi. When she realised the dorm was empty, she slumped back down with a groan, covering her face with her hands.

_Force, I wish Bastila wouldn't just violate my privacy like that_, Amira thought, lip curling in disgust as she sat up again. A glance down allowed her to determine that her attire was adequate to wear outside of the sanctuary of the girls' dorm. She made a groggy beeline for the galley, which held the caffa pot.

_Damn Jedi_, Amira thought as she nursed her second cup of caffa. _What do they want with me?_ A corner of her mind, dangerously close to where her new awareness resided, raised the suspicion that she _knew_ already. With a grimace, she shook her head. _No way. No. Not happening._

Another thought struck her, throwing mud into the clear pool of her resolve. Power. If she could control this new connection to the Force then she would be stronger. Strong enough to slip the collar the Republic had around her neck.

She spent the next twenty minutes scavenging breakfast and making herself look presentable before finally leaving the ship. Despite needing Bastila's directions to reach the council chamber, Amira was able to find it quickly, the brief scolding from the Jedi that believed her to be an insolent padawan notwithstanding.

Amira paused outside the door to the council chamber, briefly closing her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she palmed the locking mechanism and the door quickly slid open. The chamber was spacious and circular, with small steps leading down into a depression where the Jedi Council waited. Swirling designs on the floor were created by several different types of natural stone tiles, exuding an honest simplicity that brightly coloured mosaics could not replicate in all their splendour. Soft morning sunlight poured into the room from several skylights; dust motes danced in the beams of buttery light. Tendrils of creeping vines and grass crept down into the chamber from the skylights. With a jolt, Amira realised the roof of the enclave must have been a garden.

Turning her attention from the construction of the chamber to its occupants, Amira narrowed her eyes as she stepped down into the shallow depression and faced Dantooine's Jedi Council. Bastila lingered off to the left, keeping a distance between herself and the masters. Two of the masters were human; their only similarities were that they were both balding and elderly. One had light skin, a monstrosity of a nose and a contemptuous glare that Amira was all too happy to return. The other gave the impression of being monochrome with his skin, eyes and robe being in different shades of earthy brown; a minuscule smile played at the corners of his mouth as he gave her a small nod. There was a small alien of a species that Amira had never seen or heard of before, and despite barely reaching her thigh she could sense the power that cloaked him. The last master, a rutian Twi'lek, had a strange glimmer in his eyes as he also nodded at her.

Amira paid minimal attention through the introductions, her thoughts knotting with sudden anxiety and suspicion. "So, any particular reason the great Jedi want to speak to little old me?"

"Be more respectful," Bastila hissed quietly beside her.

"If I wasn't being respectful I would have already walked out," Amira retorted, loud enough for the masters to hear. She turned her attention to them. "You don't arrange audiences with non-Jedi. So what's this about?" She crossed her arms over her chest and raised her chin.

"I believe you know to some extent," Master Zhar, the Twi'lek, replied neutrally. "You possess a connection to the Force – unusual as it is in developing now – and we are considering you for Jedi training."

Amira was thankful for the interjection of the grumpy balding councilor – Vroot? Vrook? – as it distracted the other Jedi and gave her time to compose her expression. "Master Zhar speaks out of turn, perhaps. We need indisputable proof of her strong affinity to the Force before we would even consider her for training," he protested.

Bastila jumped in before Amira could formulate a cutting retort. "Proof? Surely the council can feel the strength of the Force within this woman. And I have already related to you the events which took place on Taris..." she trailed off, ignoring Amira's sudden sideways glance.

"Perhaps it was simple luck," Vrook dismissed.

"We both know there is no luck," Zhar argued. "We all feel the power in Bastila's companion, though it is wild and untamed." A frown drew his brows low over his eyes, the shadows extinguishing the glimmer from his eyes. "Now that it has begun to manifest itself, can we safely ignore it?"

The session descended into what Amira thought of as 'formal chaos' as the battle lines were drawn in the council chamber. The councilors argued with each other, not allowing their voices to rise, as they debated her fate as if she and Bastila were no longer in the room. Amira felt indignation spike its way through her chest, constricting her lungs.

"My age has nothing to do with it!" she finally snapped to the room at large. Shifting her weight onto one hip, she challenged each of the masters in turn with a dark look.

Vrook responded with a snort. "Such pride! Such arrogance! Bah, this one is already on the path to the dark side."

"As are many who do not receive proper training," Master Vandar – Amira was dying to know what his species was – interjected smoothly. "Only through our guidance can we hope to lead those who have strayed back to the light."

Amira rolled her eyes. "Except that I haven't fallen yet, no matter what Vrook over there believes."

Dust motes chased each other through the beams of sunlight for a few stretched moments. Master Dorak spoke for the first time, taking the reigns of the conversation firmly. "Traditionally the Jedi do not accept adults for training, though there have been exceptions. Most recently being Nomi Sunrider, who accomplished great things as a Jedi. I believe this, too, is a special case."

"I agree with Master Dorak." Vandar nodded once, his bulbous eyes flitting to each of his fellow councilmen. "Many of our own pupils are leaving the Jedi to follow the teachings of the Sith. We need recruits to stand against Malak! With Revan dead..."

"Are you sure Revan is truly dead?" Vrook questioned sharply. "What if we should undertake to train this one and the dark lord should return?"

Amira felt confusion scrawl itself over her face. "What does Revan have to do with _anything_?"

Master Vandar's large eyes settled on Amira. She felt inexplicable anxiety rise like an early morning fog and smother her exasperation. "We should discuss this matter more fully in private," he said, breaking their locked gazes. "Bastila, you and your companion must leave. This is a matter for the Jedi Council alone."

"As you wish, Master Vandar." Bastila bowed to the council. "We will leave you to your deliberations."

Amira silently followed the other woman out, wondering why the Jedi could provoke her into anxiety.

~.~.~

Mission stretched, a yawn rising from the bottom of her chest like a rising tide. As hard as it had been to rouse herself from sleep at an early hour, watching sunshine creep over the high stone enclave wall into the small courtyard had been worth it. While she hadn't been able to watch the actual sunrise – she hadn't worked up the courage yet to sneak around the enclave to find a way to get onto the roof – this had a simple beauty to it.

Taris' concrete jungle of towers had prevented her from seeing the actual dawn. The pale yellow of the sky and multi-hued clouds being reflected off building windows had created a blinding kaleidoscope of colour and brilliance, but it had only been a reflection of the morning's glory. The Upper City had blocked the view from the inhabitants of the Lower City anyway.

Mission caught her lower lip between her teeth as she looked around the courtyard. The high walls of stone, worn smooth by many storms, had a cloistering feel about them. They kept Jedi in and outsiders out. She wanted to see what lay beyond; seeing plants growing naturally on a planet's surface had been a dream since Griff told her about them years ago as they hid in an empty drain from a loan shark's debt collectors.

Thinking of Griff sparked the ache that she had almost successfully been able to ignore since she woke up. He had to be grieving for her, believing her dead with Taris, and Mission didn't like causing him such pain. Bowing her head, Mission squeezed her eyes shut against the sting of tears. She took a hissing breath between clenched teeth and pressed her thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose. It was embarrassing that just when she thought she was getting over Taris, it would all come crashing back that she would never see the people she had grown up with ever again.

She couldn't spend the rest of her life mourning Taris. Hundred of worlds had been razed by the Mandalorians or the Sith or even the Republic. Her homeworld was now nothing more than a statistic, but she was still alive. If there was one thing that living on the streets had taught her – other than the intricacies of pickpocketing – it was to be grateful that she was alive. Since leaving, it had been hard to feel appreciative of anything, but the meaning of the thought was creeping back to her.

Mission raised her head, eyes dry, to admire the expansive blue – and most of all, empty – sky above her. Taris' sky, which she had once thought to be so beautiful, paled in comparison with this. It had been veiled with smog and cluttered with air traffic, while Dantooine's sky was fresh and free.

_Gadon and the Beks wouldn't begrudge me being alive, would they?_ Mission asked herself. _Gadon always wanted the best for me. So did Zaerdra, even though she was pretty cynical. You guys wouldn't be angry at me for having a future?_

She knew the answer. Her eyes misted.

_No, they wouldn't be angry._

Swallowing, Mission kept her eyes on the sky as she thought, _Goodbye, Gadon. Goodbye, Zaerdra. Goodbye, Taris_.

~.~.~

Carth shifted on the stone that created a wall for a small garden bed. Despite the warmth of the sunshine peeking over the walls of the enclave the stone beneath him hadn't warmed up yet. The crispness of the air, conversely, was a welcome change from the thin recycled atmosphere of the _Ebon Hawk_ or the myriad of pollutants clogging Taris' air. From what he'd seen – which was very little – Dantooine was untouched by the war spreading across the face of the galaxy like a malignant tumour. If the enclave was truly a secret, then the planet had no reason to be targeted when there were more vital battles to be fought.

With a thin knife of pain, he thought, _Not that Malak needs a reason to bombard a planet._

While Carth had thought little of Taris, the most recent victim, there was nothing to justify the mass slaughter of millions. With a shake of his head, his thoughts turned to Mission. It wasn't easy to witness one's homeworld being reduced to rubble and ash, as he knew.

However, it was undoubted that the change of scenery was doing good for Mission. Dantooine was nothing like she'd ever seen before – something new and exciting to explore. He'd caught her venturing out of the _Hawk _and slipping down the corridor into the enclave. Carth hoped she'd have the sense not to make trouble for the Jedi, lest they impose restrictions on the _Hawk_'s crew. Considering it was unknown how long they would stay on Dantooine, that could prove disastrous.

Carth frowned and ran a hand through his hair. He ignored the two stubborn locks that immediately flicked down in front of his eye. He had made his report to the Republic, but sitting here with no new orders opened a well of frustration that ran to his core. The Republic needed as many soldiers as possible. He had seen enough Jedi to know that they didn't request private audiences with snarky ex-smugglers – they had something up their voluminous sleeves. He wasn't sure where it was going to leave him or Amira. She might have been a conscript, but she was still a soldier under the Republic Navy's command.

Carth knew that it would be next to impossible to get Amira to come back to the Navy. Sure, he wouldn't miss her at all, but she had a range of skills the Republic could use. He knew ordering her to come back would be disastrous – on the _Endar Spire_ Amira had shown how much she hated official authority. On one such occasion when some men had bothered a technician friend of hers, Amira had goaded them into a fight. Then when they had all been pulled up for it, Amira had insisted her friend had nothing to do with it and demanded the tech be let go. On top of that, Amira had simply walked out while the men were getting a thorough chewing out and happily rode out being thrown in the brig until it had suited her to face the consequences.

Now she had tasted something different from her hated conscription, she would never willingly give her new-found freedom up.

Taking a gulp form his caffa, Carth grimaced as his tongue protested against the lukewarm liquid. That's what he got for braving a cool spring morning.

~.~.~

_Malak took a deep breath, as if trying to absorb as much of his surroundings as possible. His eyes rolled back slightly. "The dark side is strong in this place - I can feel its power!" _

_His eyes lazily opened, and he watched Revan stretch a gloved hand to the seal on the door._

"_Is this wise?" he questioned, sudden apprehension flickering on his face. "The ancient Jedi sealed the archway."_

_Revan didn't acknowledge him, instead inspecting the runes carved into the door._

"_The Jedi Order will surely banish us and you know it," Malak continued._

_Darth Revan reached up, ripped something from under the heavy breastplate and cast it away. Malak's wide eyes followed it as it landed heavily on the black tiles, bouncing several paces with loud cracks that split the heavy silence._

"_Are the secrets of the Star Forge really worth it?" he demanded sharply, staring at the discarded trinket in shock. "Are you prepared to give up _everything? _Revan?"_

_The chilling, androgynous voice echoed through the dark ruin."Who you once knew as Revan is dead. There is only Dark Lord Revan of the Sith."_

_The door opened with the grating of stone and squeak of mechanics, revealing a darkened chamber. In the centre a large statue-like artifact rested. Three [arms opened like petals; a metallic flower exposing its pollen for greedy insects to drink._

_Malak paused as Revan stepped across the threshold. He glanced from the discarded trinket to Revan's cloaked back._

_Then he followed._


	17. Verdict

_A/N: This chapter and the next were supposed to be one, but it flowed better to cut it in half. So have a double post. And a question: when referring to the Council, should it be capitalised or not? It's been confusing me for a while._

**Chapter 17 – Verdict**

Amira shuffled past Carth, who was sitting on a low stone wall drinking what was no doubt caffa, as she exited the _Hawk_.

But something about her seemed to surprise him into blurting, "What's going on this morning?"

Amira, surprised at the confusion in his voice, responded unthinkingly with, "Huh?"

"First Bastila comes out looking like she saw a ghost and now you," he clarified, staring into her face. While Amira was usually pale-skinned, her bone-white face contrasted garishly with her black hair. If Bastila had seen a ghost, then Amira _was _the ghost.

"I had a rough night," Amira began, then gathered her wits about her. "It's nothing you should concern yourself with."

"Bastila did say that you should go to the council chamber before she left." Carth eyed Amira as he spoke, trying to gauge her reaction.

She crossed her arms over her chest and replied flatly, "Did she now?"

"It's no doubt urgent, so you shouldn't keep them waiting." With a final, significant look he made a shooing motion with his free hand.

The juxtaposition of his conservative attitude and his light gesture forced a reluctant smile from Amira. "Better not keep those old geezers waiting, I guess."

"I hope you haven't called them geezers to their faces," Carth chortled as she turned to leave.

"Not yet, but I did manage to raise hell yesterday," she called over her shoulder.

His groan carried in the quiet morning and made her snicker as she followed the corridor from the landing pad into the enclave.

Amira followed the only route she knew to the council chamber, through the courtyard with the wizened tree spreading its branches protectively like a living roof. There were two Jedi already meditating under the tree: a teenage padawan sitting on one the benches and a female master in the garden bed pressed against the trunk of the tree.

The padawan ignored her but the master opened one eye long enough to wink at Amira before returning to her meditation.

The doors to the council chamber were open. The councilmen were once again standing in a loose semi circle with Bastila waiting in a relaxed parade rest. Amira found that interesting; perhaps Bastila had learned more during her time serving with the Republic Navy than she let on.

Amira bit back a sigh as the door whooshed shut without any obvious direction. _Melodramatic much? Let's see what perturbing things they have to say today._

When she entered the centre ring, Vandar got straight to business. "Bastila has reported an unsusual development. She claims you and she have shared a dream – a vision of Revan and Malak in the ancient ruins here on Dantooine."

"I don't know if they were on Dant– wait, you said we _shared_ the dream?" Amira's eyes flew to Bastila. The other woman's expression was tightly controlled, but Amira saw a tiny flicker of disquiet in the Jedi's eyes. "What the hell?"

Dorak answered her first comment. "These ruins are known to us, but we dismissed them as ancient burial mounds. If Revan and Malak found something there, however, then all may not be as it seems."

"I repeat: you said we shared a _dream_? What the _hell_?"

Vandar finally decided to answer. "Bastila says she felt your presence in the dream, the same presence she has felt within you since–"

"Master Vandar," Vrook cut him off.

Amira raised an eyebrow. What did Vrook think Vandar was going to say?

"–ever since Taris," Vandar continued so smoothly Amira had to question if he intended to say anything else. The alternative was slightly more disturbing. "It is not unknown for this to happen between two people strong in the Force. Bastila has described this dream to us in great detail. We feel it is more than a dream. It is a vision. The Force is acting through you as it does through Bastila."

Amira found that she wasn't comforted by the explanation. Crossing her arms and leaning her weight on one hip, she asked derisively, "I'm having visions now?"

"You and Bastila share a powerful connection to the Force," Zhar answered, "and each other." He held up a hand to forestall any comments as Amira opened her mouth. "This is not unheard of. Connections often form between master and student, but rarely with the speed or strength of your bond with Bastila."

"Whatever dangers may lie ahead, we cannot ignore the destiny that has brought you and Bastila to us. _Together_," Vandar emphasized.

"So, let me get this straight. You telling me that she," Amira pointed to Bastila, then to herself, "and I are joined through some weird bond thing that allows us to have the same dream-vision-whatever?"

Vandar inclined his head. "That is correct. Your minds are linked, along with your fates. Together, you two may be able to defeat Darth Malak."

"But do not allow thoughts of such glory go to your head," Vrook warned swiftly, crossing his arms. "Such thoughts are those of the dark side. The way of the light is long and difficult, as you will learn. Are you ready for such hardship?"

"So far you've been speaking in certainties," Amira retorted. "Do I even get a choice?"

"Understand that there is little choice in the matter, for you or us," Vandar replied, a shadow of a rueful smile curling his lips. "It is dangerous for yourself and for others if you do not undertake training. We are not in common practice of accepting adults for training – it will be as difficult for us as it will for you. Despite this, you must surely understand the burden that has now fallen to you. Between you and Bastila, you may turn the tide in this war. The Force gave you two that vision for a reason."

Her shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit, even has her expression remained hard. To hear they were being forced into this as much as she was was slightly mollifying. The Force worked in mysterious ways, she'd heard people say. Obviously it liked putting people in impossible situations and watching them squirm.

Amira knew she needed – wanted – to control her new powers, and there was only one way she to achieve that. The idea of helping Bastila do her saviour Jedi act was murkier, but she'd cross that bridge when she reached it. She wasn't sure how she felt about the Jedi, but there was only one way forward. "Fine."

"Understand that the Sith hunt Jedi like animals, and our numbers are steadily dwindling," Vrook warned. "Many Jedi who have been sent to fight have not returned, either because they are dead or have fallen to the dark side."

"Then what are we going to do?"

"Perhaps our hope lies in the vision you and Bastila shared," Dorak murmured. Louder, he continued, "When you have a sufficient understanding of the Force and the Jedi, you and Bastila will be sent to investigate the ruins. Perhaps there will be a clue of how Revan and Malak were corrupted and, in that, a way to stop them."

Amira cocked her head on the side. "Why not now, if things are so desperate?"

"Because the ruins hold a great darkness, and you are not yet prepared to resist that onslaught," he replied.

Vrook interjected, "And because the Force flows through you like no student we've ever seen, but you are willful and headstrong – a dangerous combination."

Zhar stepped forward. "We must begin your training at once. You must be prepared for what you will face. Come, young one. I will take you to be outfitted with Jedi robes."

None of the other masters had anything further to say, so the meeting was silently concluded. As Amira turned to follow Zhar, Bastila caught her eye.

"Good luck," Bastila murmured.

"Uh, thanks?" The surprise that coloured Amira's voice signaled her confusion. Bastila merely nodded once before turning on one heel and exiting the audience chamber.

Amira jogged to catch up to Zhar. "So, are you going to be my master, then?"

"Yes," he nodded. To himself, he muttered, "It is fitting, I think."

Amira decided not to comment on that, as it hadn't been for her ears.

"What do you know of the Force?" he questioned as he led her through the twists and turns of the half stone, half vegetation corridors.

"That is has an evil sense of humour."

His brief smile held was too rueful to be entirely amused. "Have you used any powers?"

"I meditated with Bastila once. That ended badly."

"How so?"

"I broke out of the trance too quickly or something. All I know is that it hurt. I'm not eager to experience that again."

"Fear not, Apprentice, for it should not happen again."

"You guys are going to get a kick out of calling me 'apprentice', aren't you?" Amira grumbled.

Master Zhar's smile was too sly to be of comfort, and he tilted his head to the side in an attempt to conceal it.

_He smirked!_ Amira felt her jaw drop. _A Jedi master _smirked_!_

_Maybe this won't be so bad after all._


	18. Training

**Chapter 18 – Training**

The first conflict she'd had with the Jedi was over her sleeping arrangement. The Council wanted her to stay in a room on the enclave. Amira wanted to stay on the _Hawk_. Zhar had unexpectedly backed her, stating that the ship was within the enclave's premises. He had also put in the condition that she could only stay on the _Ebon Hawk_ if it remained stationary and did not joyride or leave Dantooine entirely.

That put Amira in her current situation: facing off the _Hawk_'s co-owner.

Canderous' grizzled salt-and-pepper eyebrows were drawn low, shadowing his hard granite eyes. He stood on the other side of the galley table with his arms crossed in a fashion Amira guessed was supposed to intimidate people into doing whatever the crime boss needed from them.

"Well, this is dandy," Amira remarked, a smirk playing on her features. "We're fighting this early in our relationship? Not a good omen."

"You want me to sit around on this backwards dirtball of a planet while you're kissing the asses of the Jedi Council? The same Jedi Council that refused to face us in combat and now wage war against those who had the courage to fight the_ Mando'ade_?" Canderous shook his head. "I'm going to need some serious enticement to agree to this."

Amira leaned a hip against the table, settling in for a long conversation. She called a greeting to T3-M4 as it passed the galley; it chirped a greeting to her before continuing to the cockpit. Amira refocused on the put out Mandalorian in front of her. "I sense two different issues here: boredom and indignation."

The designers of the _Ebon Hawk_ made a curious decision to have all lighting panels on the floor or the walls, which coated the arched ceiling in uneven shadows. Half of Canderous' face was lit from from a glow rod on the wall, while on the other half only his chin and cheekbone were lit from the glow rods lining the deck plates. The effect made him look slightly inhuman. "I can smell their fear," he sneered. "They're not training you because of your Force. They're training you because they're desperate. They sat back while Revan and Malak did their duty, and only now that the Sith have them by the balls they've taken up their lightsabers." One eye was the colour of molten carbonite, the other a black storm cloud gathering over the ocean. Both bored into her with an intensity she hadn't expected from him. "They're going to use you, girl. You're a weapon to the Jedi, nothing more."

Out of all the ways Amira had expected this conversation to go, this warning was incredibly left-field. She recovered enough to say, "I need to learn to control this power," the meditation disaster sprang to her mind, "because then I can _use_ it."

"Whatever, girl." He seemed irritated at her dismissal, expressed by his deepening frown and grinding teeth.

Amira folded her arms over her chest. "I think we've hit an impasse, then."

"Unless I kill you and take the _Ebon Hawk_ for myself," Canderous replied, rolling one shoulder.

She retorted, "You're not stupid enough to kill the newest Jedi in the middle of Jedi Central."

"It would be the only interesting thing to happen on this dirtball in the last century, I'd wager," he deadpanned. "If I get bored enough, I might seriously consider it."

"How about this: I'll convince the Council that allowing our resident Mando to leave the enclave at will to wander wherever he so desires is a better alternative than having an antsy Mando chewing on the furniture and goading people into fights. I'll also spar with you – something tells me I won't get much training in hand-to-hand and knives. There's not much I can do beyond that, other than scouting the bars or finding you a new crime lord to work for."

Canderous raised his chin and glared at her with his eerie mismatched eyes. "No deal."

Amira closed her eyes and exhaled, arms dropping to her sides. _Dammit_.

"If you want to stay and be their pet, fine. I'm not staying."

The idea of being alone in the enclave sent a chill down her spine. Amira planted her palms on the tabletop, splaying her long fingers. The durasteel was cool to the touch and of the particular smoothness that only came from constant use. She stared down at her white hands. "What about the others? Bastila will stay, obviously, but would you leave everyone else stranded here?"

"Yes," he answered bluntly. "The Wookiee owes you that debt, so he'll stay with you. Blue will stick close to him. As you emphasised earlier, you paid for the droid so you can keep it. Republic can be picked up easily enough and sent back to the front lines."

"Look, we both co-own the _Hawk_. I can't keep her here without your approval. Neither can you leave without my approval."

"So what, then? We're getting nowhere, in case you hadn't noticed." She heard Canderous shift but didn't look up. "Maybe we should fight for the _Hawk_. Winner takes full ownership."

Her throat tightened inexplicably. The seconds lengthened, stretching into tendrils so thin the air was difficult to breathe. The same anxiety from the Council chamber returned and caused her stomach to roll.

"You're _right,_ okay!" Amira pressed her hands harder against the tabletop as if she could merge flesh and metal with enough pressure. "The Jedi _are_ desperate and I don't trust them! I want someone covering my back. I want a place I can come back to where I'm not expected to uphold all one thousand and one rules." Her pride protested as the next words formed in her mind, but Amira knew she had to utter them. With a steady inhale, she looked up at Canderous. "I am asking you to stay. I am asking you to watch out for me and keep an eye on the Jedi."

Canderous settled on his heels and examined her carefully. Amira didn't know what he was looking for or what he found. She did know that she felt uncomfortably exposed under his gaze, and not in the usual way when men watched her. His eyes narrowed. "You're asking the _Mandalorian_," he twisted the last word in the fashion that most people did, creating an insult, "to watch your _shebs_. Why?"

"I'd take you over Bastila."

"That isn't saying much," he grunted.

Finally, her hands curled into pale fists. "Mandalorians attacked my homeworld and killed my brother! I never expected to be put in a position where I would have to ask a Mandalorian to watch my ass!" She rocked back onto her heel and spread her arms out with a rueful smile. "But here we are. It wasn't your decision to attack Derelia, nor did you fire the shot that killed Junayd. Unlike most people in this galaxy, I put the past behind me a long time ago, and I need your help now."

Canderous was as still as the granite he emulated in so many ways. Their eyes met over the table; green and brown with silver. Amira felt the air thicken, cocooning her in an intangible prison. So much was riding on his agreement.

When he finally did move, it was a single, slow nod.

The universe unwrapped itself from Amira's shoulders and ribs, then slunk away to hide in the shadows created by the odd lighting.

"Thank you." Her pride stung again at the admission.

"Get used to the cargo bay floor, because that's where you'll be spending most of your time when we spar."

~.~.~

For the first week, Amira was completely convinced that Jedi training sucked. The only good part was that Master Zhar was her teacher. He explained what she would be taught across all fields and what she was expected to learn. He had the patience to deal with a stubborn adult fumbling with a child's training, which Amira suspected was the reason he was chosen as her master.

Everything had been so much simpler on Taris. She had just been a nobody accompanying a soldier who was trying to find a Jedi. Now Amira had been thrust into the role of a Jedi and responsibility of fighting the Sith was now resting on _her_ slender shoulders. When she had initially thought she could escape her conscription by becoming a Jedi, that hadn't been what she'd envisaged. Amira believed that had to be what they were thinking – there was no other explanation as to why they would train her, when she was all wrong to be a Jedi.

_Me – an ex-smuggler who doesn't trust Jedi and yet all the properly trained knights have failed where I must succeed_, Amira thought despairingly. _I'm not even a proper Jedi! Just because I find the crash-course on how to be a Jedi easy doesn't mean I can help take the Sith down!_

While Amira had been acing her lessons, there were many things that just didn't seem right. The whole Jedi as a staring point. The Council's decisions didn't make much sense in Amira's eyes. Desperate or no. So she doubted every word they spoke and tried to search for hidden meaning in their motives.

Next on the list was Bastila, the galaxy's worst Bond mate. The little princess had been trying to break Amira in, the way beast riders trained their mounts. _Always trying to snuff out my spirit_, Amira thought in disgust._ How boring life would be if everyone was incapable of individual thought and opinion!_ Of course, Amira knew full well that opposing beliefs often led to strife, such as the current conflict. _But still, _she continued_, it's infuriating!_

The time she had asked Master Dorak about it hadn't been any help.

"_You have to put faith in others, apprentice," _the master had said_, "sometimes it is better to allow someone more knowledgeable about the situation to make the decision."_

"_But is it not acceptable to listen to other's opinions, whether they know all or not?" she replied, baffled._

_His rebuttal was calm but swift. "You have a point there, young one, but is it not acceptable to obey the leader when they have spoken?"_

_Amira frowned at the ground, "I find it hard to place my life in the hands of others."_

"_Faith, apprentice. Going on your own because you don't trust others is unwise. Believing you know better than others is equally unwise. It can lead to arrogance-"_

"_And therefore to the dark side, I know."_

There had been times when Amira had wondered if she should stop making life unnecessarily difficult for Bastila and actually take the Jedi's teachings to heart. But one haughty comment from the princess had Amira riled up to be troublesome.

As the weeks passed they blurred into repetitions of the same things: meditation, Force usage, lightsaber training, history, philosophy, debate – Amira always had to fight a smirk at the word _debate_ because Jedi were either too gentle in delivering their arguments or as shrew and relentless as Coruscant's senators. Her training was broken by sessions with Canderous where, true to his warning, he tried to pulverise her as much as possible. They were short and brutal – vivid splashes of sweat and emotion that stained her otherwise monotonous schedule.

When she walked into the training room for morning sparring, she froze as she saw Vrook instead of Zhar. A quick glance around told her she was in the right room – the small, out-of-the-way training room that was rarely inhabited by anyone other than herself and her master.

"Why are you here?" she blurted.

"Clearly, Master Zhar is not here. I will oversee your training this morning," he answered coolly.

"Where's Zhar?"

"As I said, _Master_ Zhar is unavailable and I will direct this morning's session," Vrook replied. "The slope of wrinkles on his forehead avalanched into a scowl. His eyes, despite being a warm blue, had a frosted pane of glass distorting them into glacier ice.

"That's not what I asked," Amira retorted, tossing her training saber onto a bench hugging the wall. She folded her arms, settled her weight on one hip, and raised an eyebrow. "I have a right to know where my master is." _And I'm not doing anything until you tell me_.

"If Master Zhar did not tell you of his whereabouts, then that is no concern of mine." His training saber hissed to life and he settled into a ready stance. The dampening technology built into the training saber faded the verdant hue of the crystal into a pale mockery of green.

Amira huffed and remained in place.

"Is this the calibre of Zhar's pupil? You do him a great disservice!" Vrook barked. "Apprentice, I've seen younglings with more maturity than you."

Amira was surprised by the strength of the resentment sparked by the implicit insult against Zhar. It was only to defend her ability as a student that she used the Force to call her lightsaber back to her hand and fix her stance, face wiped clean of emotion.

Vrook blinked, as if surprised, then gave a faint grunt of approval. "Begin."

She began to circle, training saber ready to block. He turned to keep her in front of him. When Vrook understood she would not strike first, he flew forward with a speed that earned her a stinging bite from his training saber.

Amira gritted her teeth and rolled sideways to put more distance between them. That nick would have almost certainly led to a quick loss were it a real battle. She feinted left, then struck at his shoulder; Vrook parried the blow with a single flick of his wrist. Then Vrook began his offensive and Amira found out just how flexible she was as she dodged ad parried the hail of strikes. She saw a shadow of an opening and swung her saber in the first form of the flurry she had mastered with her vibroblades.

She didn't expect Vrook to block her swing as easily as if she were a clumsy novice. Amira sprang back, pants shaking her lanky frame, and tried to reevaluate.

Vrook surveyed her with narrowed eyes. "Your technique is sloppy and will not hold against even a neophyte of the dark side," he criticised.

Beads of sweat clung to her brow; inky tendrils of hair clung to her face as if someone had spilled black ink onto a piece of paper. "If you believe I'm going to rely solely on my lightsaber to win against dark Jedi you are painfully mistaken," Amira hissed. Vrook did not advance, merely turned to keep her fully in view when she began to circle him again. "Nothing you teach me will prepare me to fight those who have years of experience! I'm incredibly aware of that fact. I'm not as stupid as you believe me to be, Master."

"I never said you were stupid, Apprentice." He pounced forward, driving his training saber forward to be parried by a desperate flick of Amira's wrist. "I said you are arrogant, foolish and display a lack of understanding of what we are and what we fight."

Amira made one final lunge, only to be swept aside with an ease that infuriated her.

"Zhar has been babying you," Vrook scorned, stepping back and deactivating her training saber.

She snapped. Amira flew forward, lightsaber extended to slide home between his ribs. She was swept back by a wave of the Force that knocked her flat on her back. The world grayed dangerously, then snapped back into focus.

Vrook was standing over her. He raised one hand and her saber obediently flew into it. His next words lacked the disparaging bite she had expected. "Beware impulsive actions. They will lead you not to a speedy victory, but to the heart of darkness."

"If you would stop taunting me, then maybe I wouldn't!" she snapped back, sitting up.

Another wave, this one with less force, pushed back to the ground. "And what good would it do if you were taught only to manage your emotions in controlled situations? Any enemy you face may taunt you. Any person you pass on the street may insult you. You must learn to not act with a rashness that will get yourself and those around you killed."

Amira growled low in her throat. "I've been training for weeks while the rest of you have years of training under your belts! How am I supposed to match that?"

"Why should you be given special treatment when every other padawan must learn discipline?" he retorted. "Master Zhar may mistakenly give you preferential treatment, but no one else will."

"No, Master Zhar accounts for the fact that I'm bound to screw up!"

"If you believe it inevitable that you will fail, then you should not be here. You have already fallen if you make such excuses for your behaviour."

"If you hat– dislike me, then why are you here?"

"Because you must succeed, and I will not eschew my duty because of my personal opinion."

"Good to know," Amira grumbled. When she tried to sit up again, he allowed it. Amira rolled onto her feet and stretched, her vertebrae voicing their displeasure in crackles and pops.

"Clean yourself up and meditate on this, Apprentice," Vrook ordered. "I pray this lesson, hard learned as it is, will remain with you." He turned on his heel and walked out of the training room in a swish of woolen robes.

Amira screwed her eyes shut and took deep breaths until she heard the doors slide shut.

She returned to the _Hawk_, completely ignoring Canderous' jeering questions – how he knew she had just received an ass kicking was beyond her. After a long soak in the refresher, she changed into clean robes and traced the now-familiar path through the enclave to the small courtyard off-shooting from the archives where she usually took her academic lessons and meditation. She wondered who would take the session if Zhar wasn't around. A shudder rippled down her spin at the thought of Vrook. Amira palmed the lock and the door obediently slid open.

"Master Zhar!" Amira gasped.

Zhar looked up from the datapad he was reading. "Yes, Apprentice?"

"They–" she broke off, grinding her teeth. It took three deep breaths for her to control her emotions. "They told me you weren't available and Vrook took the opportunity to continually insult me for an hour."

One of Zhar's lekku twitched but his face bore no change in emotion. "I highly doubt that is all that happened, Apprentice. It was, after all, a training session."

"What is with Vrook?" Amira demanded, throwing herself onto the thin cushion, which made a small 'oof' of discomfort. "Why is he so hostile to me?"

"Calm yourself, apprentice, and I will explain," Zhar ordered gently.

Amira took in a deep, trembling breath. It loitered in her lungs for seven seconds before she exhaled. Her outward anger slowly dissipated as she focused on steadying her breathing, while the resentment sank to curl deep in her chest.

"Good." The master nodded once in approval. "Now, I must ask that you do not judge Master Vrook too harshly. As a Jedi you must be civil with everyone, especially those you do not like." The glint in his eyes she had learned to be wary of surfaced. "Consider it training."

Amira hung her head. _Dammit_. "Why do you have to word it as a challenge?"

"Because there is no other way to encourage young padawans to obey," he replied wisely. "However, I digress. Vrook is harsh with other Jedi because he has seen the lure of the dark side snare many."

Amira frowned, her eyes narrowing. "So he expects it as a given that I'm going to fall? What great encouragement."

"In all things there must be a balance. While he sees your potential to fall, I see your potential to rise. If Master Vrook's attitude incites indignation in you, then try your hardest to meet his expectations and prove him wrong. Take heart in my encouragement and always see the goodness within yourself. For all his harshness, Master Vrook can raise valid points. At the very least, dealing with him can be an exercise in self-control."

"Hear, hear," Amira muttered.

"Apprentice," he chided lightly. "Remember to be respectful."

She looked down, feigning embarrassment at the mild censure._ Of all the masters, why did it have to be Vrook? He seems to have a chip in his shoulder the size of Tatooine_. That thought struck a chord in her mind; Amira blurted, "How come the Council is the way it is?"

A hint of amusement curved Zhar's mouth. "You must clarify, Apprentice."

"Well, Vrook is usually the negative one and he is outnumbered by the rest of you, who all seem to be _slightly_ more easygoing." _Though still creepy at times_, she privately amended.

"Easygoing?" One of his hairless eyebrows rose.

Amira mentally sighed. Zhar was definitely amused. "Please forgive my wording, oh Master Zhar. I did not mean to imply that you are anything but a strict, emotionless master."

The Twi'lek shook his head, one lekku falling over his shoulder. His mouth didn't twitch but Amira felt his amusement bubble through his aura. "Jedi politics aren't nearly as simple as they appear. Vrook is a representative of a faction of Jedi, as are we all."

She frowned. "I'm sensing dangerous territory here. What does he represent?"

"Ever searching for the heart of the issue, I see. Vrook represents the Jedi who feel that our teachings and the wisdom of the old masters should be strictly observed. We have seen the chaos of the three most recent wars: the Great Sith War, the Mandalorian Wars and our current conflict with Revan and Malak. They believe this has been caused by Jedi disregarding certain teachings."

"And what about you? What do you represent?"

"I represent those who feel complete adherence to the code is not necessarily the solution," Zhar answered carefully. "Every situation is individual and should be treated as such. Problems should be solved on a case-by-case basis. Sometimes literal adherence to every word of the great masters will trap one in an unwanted outcome. Of course, I still believe that the code is valuable and there is much wisdom to be gleaned from the archives."

"And what about Vandar and Dorak?"

"Vandar believes not so much in strict adherence to the code but that complete understanding of the code is necessary to become a great Jedi. He feels that these wars were caused not by disobedience, but by lack of understanding of what the Jedi stand for."

"But that's dangerous," Amira interjected. "What is complete understanding? We all have different interpretations! Is he saying there's only one right way to interpret the code an all others are wrong? If so, which one does he believe to be correct? And then how does he persuade everyone else that he's right?"

"That I cannot answer for him," he evaded, "but I can tell you of Master Dorak. He represents those that feel we need to teach and understand the past – both the failures and the successes – in order to learn and move forward."

"Hooray for history," Amira smirked.

A brief flame of amusement flickered across his face before he extinguished it. "Come, Apprentice. There is still much more to learn today."


	19. Trials of a Jedi

**Chapter 19 – Trials of a Jedi**

It had been eight weeks since she had first begun her training, and Amira felt she was finally proficient at the whole Jedi thing. Her lightsaber form had vastly improved; she now stood facing a training droid, back straight and lightsaber held aloft with confidence. Since the incident with Vrook, Zhar had pushed her harder to manage her emotions during combat and it had paid off.

Amira parried the droid's 'saber and landed a blow on it's mechanical knee. It staggered in emulation of an organic and Amira seized the opening to 'stab' its chest. The training 'saber's settings prevented it from actually slicing through anything, but the droid recognised it as a kill move and promptly deactivated.

Rather than grin and preen in front of her master, Amira deactivated her 'saber and took a moment to centre herself. The Force washed over her skin, refreshing and renewing. It was a sixth sense, an ever-present awareness of the galaxy around her. Unlike her internal sense of gravity, which could be confused, the Force was an eternal grounding that told her exactly where she was and what was around her. Amira returned to herself and faced Master Zhar.

"Excellent." He examined her carefully, then nodded. "You have done in weeks what many cannot do in years. I believe you are ready to undertake your trials to earn the rank of padawan."

"What would you have me do?"

"In the tradition passed down from master to student for thousands of generations, you must pass three tests to prove yourself worthy. You must prove your understanding of the Jedi, mental discipline, martial skill and sufficient control of your Force powers."

Amira nodded. "I'm ready."

"First, I will test your knowledge of the Jedi Code, as by these tenets you must live. Finish the following: there is no emotion..."

"There is peace," Amira finished. Without further prompting, she continued, "There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force."

"You have learned your studies well, Apprentice. To succeed in the second test, you will construct your own lightsaber, which will be your most prized possession. It will permanently mark you as a Jedi, for good or ill. Speak with Master Dorak, who will guide you in choosing a crystal."

"I'll be back." Amira turned and walked as quickly as she could without breaking into a jog. She had been looking forward to getting her own lightsaber – it was one of the few good points of being a Jedi.

Amira paused in the doorway that led to one of the main courtyards, connecting corridors evenly spaced around the circular walls.

_Where would Dorak be? Archives. Stupid question, that._

When she reached the archives, she sent out a querying tendril of the Force, which resonated when it found a sentient's aura. Amira made her way towards it, hoping it was Dorak.

Dorak was cataloguing a shelf of artifacts on the western side of the archives. He glanced up when he sensed Amira approach and dusted his hands on his robes.

"Greetings, Apprentice. What can I do for you?"

"I'm here for a crystal to build my lightsaber." It was impossible to keep the spark of excitement out of her voice.

Dorak placed his datapad down on the top self and gestured for her to follow him. "Ah, yes. It is my understanding that you know of the three specialisations, yes?"

"Guardians are more combat-ready, sentinels are the most versatile, and consulars always try to find the most peaceful solution."

She observed the path they were taking through the archives and realised the master had no direction in mind. They were twisting through shelves of artifacts, lightsabers, stone tablets, plant samples and historical accounts. The archives weren't dusty, but the atmosphere was reverent and any loud noise was not tolerated. Some darkness resonated weakly from a locked section where dark side artifacts were kept.

"A basic answer, but it will suffice." Dorak absently folded his hands into his sleeves. "Is there a class that appeals to you, Apprentice?"

"I want to be a sentinel," she replied immediately.

"We shall see. First, I would like you to answer some questions."

As Dorak quizzed her, Amira knew how her answers were shaping up. In combat she relied on outsmarting her enemies, not strength. Years on the Outer Rim had taught her a wide range of skills along with the usefulness of subterfuge. If a woman was being chased by thugs, Amira would cause a distraction to allow her to escape. If Sith were infiltrating a world, she would lure them into a trap and make public their malevolent actions. If there was a locked door, she would bypass the lock.

It was no surprise when Dorak approved her choice to be a sentinel and gave her a yellow crystal to symbolise her decision. It was warm like sunshine trapped in a small glass prism. It didn't fit neatly in her palm, but she felt it resonate with the Force, like a harp that sang through vibration rather than sound.

Amira bade him a hasty goodbye and made her way back to Zhar.

He was sitting on a cushion in his quiet meditation room. When Amira entered, he opened his eyes. It took a few moments for them to focus and snap to her. "You have returned. Are you ready to construct your lightsaber?"

Amira showed him the crystal. "I am."

He gestured to the workbench nestled away in the corner. "All the necessary materials are here. You are not to use any outside equipment or components for the initial building of your lightsaber. After, you may modify it as you please. Begin when you are ready."

When she was settled in the padded stool, Amira first went through every drawer. She arranged the tools on the left side of the workbench and the materials on the right. Amira paused, hands poised in mid-air. She went through the instructions she had previously studied under Zhar's watchful eye.

_Alright, first I need to construct the casing..._

Time fell away, leaving a void that could be described only as _work_. The only signs of the fickle passage of time was the growing ache in her neck and the steadily receding light until she switched on the light above the workbench. She worked slowly, checking, double checking every weld and screw. There was a strange ease to it, as if Amira were in a trance and only half aware of what her hands were doing. The casing came together quickly. She somehow knew to place the three focus lenses that the energy passed through early on, so she would not have to deconstruct the outer casing again to set them in place. Wiring the power cell was slightly challenging, but after several tries and a bleeding finger she succeeded. She also remembered the order for the most effective configuration. Luckily, the crystal needed no cutting for it to fit in place.

Awareness of her surroundings – and the furious pain screaming down her spine – slowly returned as Amira clicked the power button into place. The overhead glow rod had banished all shadows on the bench top, but darkness pooled around the base. Still, she continued to work. Setting the thin bands of black leather around the grip could be tricky, but Amira managed despite her prickling eyes.

Her fingers ran over her finished lightsaber for her final inspection. Amira stood, spine crackling, then wrapped stiff fingers around the hilt and thumbed the activation button. A shaft of pure gold speared out of the case. In her hands, the lightsaber vibrated wit ha warm hum, ready to take on the galaxy.

Deactivating her 'saber, Amira left the workbench in complete disarray as she approached Zhar. He slipped out of his meditation and stood. She wordlessly presented her lightsaber to him.

His gloved fingers slid over the casing the way hers had earlier. He tested the integrity of the construction, then activated it. Again the blade of amber energy shot out, banishing the surrounding shadows. He gave it an experimental swing. "Well balanced." Zhar closed his eyes. Amira wasn't sure what he did, but he then commented, "The crystal has been set almost perfectly – that is rare to see in one's first build." Zhar deactivated it and held it out in open palms. "You have constructed a fine lightsaber. It will serve you well."

Amira took her lightsaber and clipped it on her belt. The weight was unfamiliar, but welcome. She was also going to have to tighten her belt, lest it weasel off her hips.

"I will give you your third and final test, but to not undertake it until you have rested. A weary body and mind will only serve to hinder you," Zhar warned.

"What is this test?" Amira asked.

"For every Jedi, the threat of the dark side is always present. You must understand this before you can be accepted fully into the Jedi Order. You must see the corruption of the dark side for yourself. Even here on Dantooine, there are places were the dark side holds sway, corrupting and twisting nature itself. There is an ancient grove a few klicks from the enclave that has been used for deep meditation by the Jedi. It is now tainted and darkness perverts the region around it. The kath hounds have become savage, attacking anything that moves, and the Jedi have promised to protect the settlers."

"What's causing this corruption if the grove was used by Jedi?" Amira asked.

"The kath hounds are but a symptom of the true problem," he answered. "You must find the grove and confront the true source of the taint. That is your task."

Amira watched him, waiting for more information. When none was forthcoming, she said slowly, "You know more than you're telling me."

Zhar's reply was swift and laced with iron. "Some things you must see for yourself. None of the other Jedi here are permitted to assist you." He paused, then continued more quietly, "But remember this, my apprentice: a Jedi acts with patience and care, and those on the dark path may not be irredeemable. Rest and prepare yourself, then complete this task. May the Force be with you."

Amira took that as a dismissal. She quickly bowed, then made her way through the darkened corridors to the _Hawk_'s docking bay. When Amira reached the starboard dorm, she paused and stared longingly at her bunk, debating whether to have a shower or not. Her neck answered that question by stiffening with pain as she turned her head. Amira grabbed a change of clothes and padded down the corridor to the refresher. Thankfully, it was unoccupied.

It was surprising that there was any hot water left between several people who hogged it, but it soothed her back and neck. Amira didn't soak until her allotted time ran out as her eyes were starting to slip closed of their own accord. She dressed into a pair of old sweats and a tank top, then returned to the girls' dorm. Dumping her clothes, lightsaber and all, on what had been Bastila's bunk, Amira flopped onto her bed and crashed.

~.~.~

"Well, well, lookie what we have here?"

Amira groaned as a hand roughed her shoulder. "Bugger off."

"Language," the voice tutted.

It took Amira about ten seconds to place a name to the voice.

Mission.

"Why are you a morning person?" Amira groaned.

"I always slept light so I was ready to move in case some guy with a knife found me," she answered with a shrug.

One of Amira's eyes opened so she could examine the teenager.

Mission raised an eyebrow and smirked. "I'm not a kid, so don't try to baby me. I know the score."

"Evidently," Amira muttered. She grimaced as she tried to turn her head. The muscles in her neck had knotted up again while she had slept. Amira raised a hand to massage some of the soreness out.

Mission plopped down on Amira's bunk. "So, what hammered you yesterday? Those old geezers pushing you past your limit?"

"Check the princess' old bunk."

The self-satisfied smack to her reply caused Mission to perk up. She hopped to her feet and dug through the steadily accumulating pile of junk they had both been throwing on the bunk.

Amira sat up while Mission was searching and rummaged through her footlocker for a fresh robe. It was her favourite – dark blue with a black undershirt. She tossed them on the lid of the footlocker for later.

It was obvious when Mission found the lightsaber. Her gasp caused Amira to grin stupidly.

"You did it!" Mission crowed. "You have a lightsaber! You're now a butt-kicking defender of the galaxy–!"

"I didn't need a lightsaber to kick someone's butt," Amira muttered. She sidled to the left, then lashed out to slap her foot against Mission's backside. "See?"

Mission made a face at her and ran out of the girls' dorm, lightsaber held firmly in her grasp. Amira heard her shout "Amira's got a lightsaber! Amira's got a lightsaber!"

Amira groaned and buried her head in her hand. "Can I go back to bed?" She meandered to the doorway and stuck her head out to shout after Mission, "Don't activate it or you might chop yourself in half!"

She glanced down at her wrist chrono and decided she may as well have breakfast. It would be a big day, after all. Amira meandered down the corridor to the kitchenette and helped herself to leftover scrambled eggs and a glass of milk. When she sat down at the table, she ignored the looks the men gave her. Zaalbar was inspecting her lightsaber. From the way he gingerly held it in his paws, Amira knew there was no risk of him damaging anything, so she shrugged and said nothing.

"So, I hear you have yourself a lightsaber," Canderous commented.

"I have no idea where you might have heard that from," Amira replied. She cocked her head on the side and listened. Mission was no longer shouting or running.

He snorted. "From the overexcited blue gizka that just ran around the ship."

Amira felt the approach of Mission and decided to bury herself in her breakfast rather than respond.

Zaalbar held out her lightsaber and woofed, "_It is finely constructed. You should be proud, Amira._"

"Thanks." A Wookiee's approval guaranteed fine construction, especially since she knew of Zaalbar's technical prowess. She accepted her lightsaber and rested it on the table.

"Hey, Big Z," blue hands rested on Zaalbar's massive shoulders, only possible because the Wookiee was sitting down, "How about I rob you of your heard-earned credits in pazaak?"

"Is it just me, but didn't you say that yesterday and he cleaned you out?" Amira cocked her head on the side.

"Yeah, but that was yesterday," she answered. "Today's gonna be different."

"Uh huh," Canderous scoffed quietly.

Mission's eyes narrowed as she glared at the Mandalorian. "You just watch, you geezer. C'mon, Big Z." She grabbed his paw and led him to the cargo hold where the makeshift pazaak table was set up.

Once Mission and Zaalbar were out of earshot, Canderous noted idly, "Blue's jailbait."

"You think?" Amira returned, before Carth could say anything. She lifted her feet so they rested on the table and leaned back in her chair. "Bastila looks like jailbait, and me..." She inspected her nails with a cocky expression. "I'm so damn attractive I _have_ to be jailbait."

Canderous choked on his drink, spraying booze everywhere and coughing loudly. Carth watched the Mandalorian's reaction with wicked amusement before expressing his own opinion. "You're amazingly self assured, sister."

Amira snickered and returned to her breakfast. Without warning, Canderous stood and left the galley. "Oh, come on," Amira called to the Mandalorian's back. "Carth doesn't smell _that_ bad!"

"Hey!" the pilot protested.

"I have things to do." He took the corridor that led to the garage, leaving Amira alone with Carth.

Rolling her eyes, Amira stood and dumped her plate in the automated dishwasher. She then turned back to face Carth and leaned a hip against the kitchenette bench. It had struck her a few weeks ago that she hadn't treated him very well on Taris, even if they could share passing banter. Zhar had implied that she should apologise to him, but Amira couldn't quite stomach that particular blow to her pride. It hadn't been entirely her fault, after all.

"Well, I have my final test today," she remarked. Without looking at him, she could tell she had caught Carth's attention. "I've got to run up and down Dantooine's plains to find the source of a corruption that's making the kath hounds more aggressive."

"I've heard that the kath hounds have become unusually vicious," Carth replied. "The Jedi think it's the dark side?"

"Yeah," Amira nodded. "They said I can't ask anyone in the enclave for help, but you aren't a Jedi. Want to come with? I've also heard rumours of Mandalorian raiders that I might look into."

Carth examined her carefully for a few moments. "Alright." The word came out wary.

Amira had to stifle a laugh at his suspicion. There were a few moments of awkward silence. Striving to sound flippant, she said, "So, rather than glare vibrodaggers into each other's backs while we scamper across the plains, I was wondering if we could start again and be friendly acquaintances."

He stared at her, mouth drawn into a thin, unamused line.

_Okay, then, _Amira thought. "We could downgrade to neutral acquaintances, if you prefer."

He chuckled, though she noticed his eyes weren't completely cleared of shadows. "I'm only messing with you. I'll take this olive branch. I'm hoping friendly acquaintances is better than hostile acquaintances."

"Sure it will – we get to jump through hoops, kill kath hounds and that kind of friendly acquaintance stuff."

Carth raised an eyebrow. "You have an interesting idea of what friendly acquaintances do."

"Too late: you already agreed!"

He snorted. "Any surprises I should be aware of?"

"Well..." Amira paused for a few moments to draw out the suspense. "I was going to ask Canderous to come as well. Double the firepower."

"What's this?" Canderous appeared so conveniently Amira wondered if he actually left.

"Can you two come along _without_ trying to kill each other? Or am I just tempting the Force?"

Mission also appeared, from the port side corridor rather than the starboard, but made her way to the galley to grab two bottles of a local juice. "Probably not worth it, Amira," Mission chirped as Carth and Canderous gave each other sceptical glares.

"Probably not," she agreed, "but if there wasn't any 'friendly' fire going on between them, just think how easy it would be to get my job done."

"Cheating through your examination," the Twi'lek noted, nodding. "Very good."

Or maybe Mission_ had_ been listening in as well. Amira smiled slyly. "Not quite – they said nothing about bringing along extra firepower from non-Jedi."

Mission grinned and sang, "Loophole! Very good, Amira, very good."

The woman smiled again, then returned her gaze to the two men. "So, how 'bout it, guys? Mando gets things to kill and Republic gets to stay in the loop. Partially."

"I'm not going to back down," Canderous replied gruffly.

"I'm not letting you go out there with only a Mandalorian to guard your back."

Amira forestalled Canderous' retort with a brisk, "Then gear up and grab some water. We leave in twenty."

~.~.~

Amira was beginning to wonder at the wisdom of bringing a Republic soldier and a Mandalorian with her. There were too few witnesses and all of the settlements were just a little too far away. In case something went horribly wrong.

As they left the settled territory of the enclave, the grass sprang up to enjoy its freedom. Wading through knee high grass disturbed various insects, which darted away only to be snatched up by waiting birds. Trees were fairly infrequent, and almost all of them were well-established blba with impressive girths and thorny branches. A small pack of huurtons, visible because of their rich red-brown fur and armoured backs, whispered through the grass, but didn't notice the humans. It was for the better – their natural aggression rivalled that of the kath hounds currently. Tight valleys carved through rock to connected the plains. Reminded her of her homeworld, Amira shot a frown in Carth's direction. She had been thinking of her family more frequently in the past three months than she had in years. Her family's homestead had been single-storey, like most of the houses they had passed this morning. With a glance upward, Amira spied a colossal brith sailing high above the worries of land-dweller, fin-like wings undulating on the air currents. There hadn't been any of _those_ flying about on Deralia.

So far she had only had to put up with male fronting, but she was hoping the increasingly frequent kath hound attacks were a way for them to work out their frustration without turning on each other.

Carth was currently taking offence to something Canderous had said. "I'm not a warrior, I'm a soldier. There's a difference. Warriors attack and conquer. They prey on the weak. Soldiers defend and protect the innocent – usually from warriors."

Canderous sneered, "Nice speech. Bet you tell yourself that every night so you can sleep. But I accept who and what I am–"

Amira's lightsabers flared to life as the howls of kath hounds resounded from an outcrop above them. There was a twinge in her senses; Amira ducked obediently as the hound flew over her. She rose and spun to cut down the kath hound in mid-air.

"Yeah, and I'm a Jedi so I automatically beat both of you!"

The battle was short as there were only four hounds, with Canderous felling the last one as Amira cut its legs from beneath it.

As if there had been no interruption, Canderous turned to Carth and taunted, "That attitude is why we held the Republic by the throat!"

"Until the _Jedi_ came along," Amira put in pointedly. "What did I say just before?"

"Jedi complicate things," the Mandalorian snorted. "Revan is the only reason your precious Republic still stands."

"It wasn't _solely_ Revan," Carth argued.

"Every Jedi that fought made a difference," Amira agreed. "Revan's Right Hand, Malak, used to be quite the tactician and he did what Revan didn't have time for. The Left Hand–"

"The Cathar?" Canderous asked.

"The Cathar," Amira confirmed. "That general had some skill in battle meditation and was fairly charismatic herself. She did what had to be done regardless of the consequences."

"And notice they were called _Revan_'s Hands?" Canderous shook his head. "Revan gave us the fight we wanted. Revan fought with a warrior's soul."

"And notice you lost," Carth pointed out dryly.

With an irritated exhale, Amira decided to hijack the conversation again. _"Verd ori'shya beskar'gam." _The Mandalorian proverb rolled gracefully off her tongue. Knowing Carth probably knew little more than war-related phrases or vulgar words in Mandalorian, she said, "The _Mando'ade_ have a saying that goes, 'A warrior is more than his armour'. Interpret it as you will."

"How much Mando'a do you know?" Canderous asked, sidetracked from Carth's insulting answer.

"A bit," she replied, smiling mysteriously.

"Like I believe that, girl," he replied caustically.

"_Ori'haat,_" Amira answered, her smile turning teasing.

Canderous snorted. "You're an interesting one, girl."

"Interesting, my dear Canderous, would be an understatement. Now, will you both please quieten down. My Jedi senses are tingling."

The air starting to grow hot as the sun entered its zenith. Despite this, the ground under their boots was cool, leeching through leather and socks into their feet. A tangle of weedy yellow grass, still thick despite its sickly appearance, snared the sunlight before it could reach the dirt underneath. No birds flitted from the thorny branches of the blba trees, and despite the lack of predators there were also fewer insects. Once, the yipping cries of a pack of huurtons sliced through the air, but all-too common were the lilting howls of kath hounds.

The kath hound attacks became more frequent as they made their way closer to the knot of taint Amira could sense. It spider webbed out, carried by the kath hounds like a contagious disease to affect the land. It wasn't significant, but the change was enough for Amira to be certain they were getting closer.

Ground rose on either side of them until they were in one of the strange, tight valleys that periodically rose up from the otherwise flat plains. A chorus of kath cries had Amira's lightsaber in her hand, lit. There were too many, and they were too close. Ahead where the small cliffs fell away into flat ground, she spotted almost a dozen ripples in the grass. The hounds broke free, charging with animal war cries.

Amira threw her lightsaber, hanging back with the men. There was not enough room for her to engage the hounds without being shot from behind. Two kath hounds went down, the smell of burning fur catching on the wind. Carth and Canderous ploughed through the animals, which had no armoured skin or resistance to blaster bolts. Even so, anxiety coiled in Amira's gut as she conjured up a whirlwind to snag the nearest hounds. Dust and grass were swept up, giving it a tangible form as the kath hounds yelped until they were shot. She sensed more of them coming; while they had no concept of strategy, Amira knew she and her companions would be bottlenecked.

"Come on! Stick with me!" Shifting her stance, Amira held her lightsaber in one hand and gathered the Force in the other. She had seen Bastila knock over a row of training dummies once with a concentrated wave. Amira charged, throwing the Force ahead of her with all her strength. It thundered through the valley, bursting free to snare the closing kath hounds and throw them back. Amira broke left, casting a grenade a clutch of stunned hounds. It took seconds for the kath hounds to recover, which Carth and Canderous used to cut them down. Heat at her back and two focused minds protected her flank.

Amira stopped short as the last of the hounds fled, slipping into the cover of grass and away. With the back of her hand she swept her sweat-slick hair off her forehead and sucked in gasps of air. "No more tricks like that for a while, I think." Ahead, she spied a creek and a blba tree. "Break time." She made a beeline for the tree, tripping once over a knot of grass that ensnared her ankle. Once settled at its base, she unhooked her canteen from her belt and drank deeply.

They ate ration bars in silence. Both Canderous and Carth remained standing. Slowly, Amira stretched her mind, performing the mental equivalent of a warm down exercise. Her weariness was ebbing, her reserves of the Force returning, though she knew she'd need a good night's sleep tonight. One thing was clear: they needed to reach the heart of the darkness soon and without draining their energy.

Something snagged her attention. Some auras were approaching, their moderate size and incoherent vitality painting them as more kath hounds. What was troubling, however, was that more of them were leaving to knot up at a certain area. It was no great mystery what they were guarding, though the exact nature of the corruption was still unknown.

"Can kath hounds swim?" Amira asked, eyeing the creek. It was fairly clear, though stained a rich brown by tannin.

"Not a clue," Carth responded. He saw movement in the grass and raised his blasters. "Heads up!"

The first kath hound fell, but the other two sprang forward, saliva dripping from their snapping jaws. Amira sprang forward, swinging her lightsaber down to cleave the closest one in half. Momentum carried her forward to stab the other through the chest.

Her senses twanged and Amira rolled sideways to block another three trying to flank Carth. She called upon the Force, unleashing a Force-driven whirlwind with a wave of her hand. Two of the hounds were swept into it and the third sprang back with a yelp. It disappeared into the long grass, but Amira could feel its life force and rushed forward to decapitate it. She turned and saw the other two had been taken down.

More hounds were rushing towards them from the other side of the creek. Two of them rushed straight into the water and were swept downstream by the current. One tried furiously to fight the current and reach the other side, but its head bobbed below the water and it vanished.

The other kath hounds, which had stopped to watch their pack mates' struggle, growled and paced up and down the creek bed. Canderous wasted no time in picking them off, with Carth quickly following suit. A few ran out of range and hung back at a path that was marked by two trees. As they watched, more prowled out of the grass to prowl around the entrance.

"There's my answer, then." Amira absently bit her lip as she traced the course of the creek. It was currently slicing across in front of them, but angled until it was running parallel to the path. She closed her eyes and reached out with her mind. The darkness was ahead, concentrated in a spot about four hundred metres away.

"What are you thinking?" Carth asked.

"The grove is fairly close – probably through the path the hounds are blocking. But the creek also goes in the same direction. So I was thinking of swimming to get past the kath hounds."

"No way," Canderous growled.

"Not you. Me. You guys should stay here and watch out for the kath hounds sneaking up behind us from the way we came. Keep the path clear and I'll be back soon."

Carth stood his ground and caught her eye. "This doesn't seem like a good idea. You really want to face whatever that is alone?"

"Master Zhar did say I was supposed to do this alone. He wouldn't set me a task I couldn't complete solo. Besides, matters regarding the Force are a little beyond you two."

"So you're just going to keep us out of the loop?" Carth frowned.

"Not really. I'm just going to swim down a creek and face off whatever's causing the darkness. No loops involved there."

Carth let out a frustrated breath. "You know what I mean."

"I do know what you mean and I'm going alone."

"If you die, I get full ownership of the _Hawk_," Canderous said gruffly.

A mildly incredulous expression crossed Amira's face. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

She turned to face the creek bed – also putting her back to the men – and unbuckled her belt. She stripped until she was down to her undershirt and leggings. Amira bent down to unclip her lightsaber from her belt. She was at a loss of where to place it on her person. A quick scan over her body left only one place she could hook it. Amira risked a glance over her shoulder; both Carth and Canderous were guarding the perimeter, their backs to her. She quickly shoved her lightsaber down her shirt to clip onto her bra strap.

Wading into the water, Amira called over her shoulder, "I don't want any of my clothing 'mysteriously vanishing'. Got it?"

"Loud and clear, ma'am," Carth replied. They both glared at Canderous until he also verbally agreed.

The current sucked at her ankles, threatening to sweep her away as the mud shifted under her feet. The creek had surprising depth and a swift downward slant. When she was waist deep, the water almost toppled her over. It was cool, gnawing at her skin through her thin clothes in sharp relief against the heat of the late summer morning. Amira took a deep breath and dove beneath the surface.

The current immediately grabbed her and pulled her downstream. The water felt strange against her eyes – it held not the sting of seawater nor the nothingness of purified water. Dust motes danced in the sun rays that bravely stabbed through the surface. From the strength of the current, Amira barely had to paddle. She just had to not drown, which was easier said than done. One of her lessons in Force usage had been to need no more than the oxygen currently in her lungs to survive, in case the air was poisoned. It worked equally well with water.

Ahead, there was a tight knot of trees hugging both sides of the creek bed. Their branches hung low, caressing the surface of the creek. Amira ducked underwater and turned onto her back so she could see when it was clear. Dappled light and leaves bounced on the surface above her.

A cool shiver through the force alerted Amira that she had almost reached her destination. She pulled herself upright, now faced with the problem of how to get out of the creek. By her own strength, she only managed to get a few feet closer to the edge, which was only two metres away. When she stretched out to the Force, it tingled expectantly down her arms and legs. Amira swam with powerful, Force-assisted strokes to reach the shallows.

Amira waded out of the creek and shook herself out. A cool breeze raised goosebumps along her arms. She wrung out her hair and her clothes, then carefully cleaned her muddy feet in the water and stepped quickly onto the grass. It had been many years since she had felt grass beneath her bare feet – the last time had been on her parents' farm as she'd walked the property that final time.

A careful survey with plain sight and the Force told her she was perhaps only a hundred or so metres away from the grove. She was on a small flat that probably flooded in the wet season, covered in knee high grass. One brave tree proudly twisted from the ground fifteen metres away, near an outcrop that jutted from the earth.

Glad there was no one around to watch, she pulled her lightsaber free and gave it a once over before checking it still activated. The warm golden glow comforted her. She deactivated it but kept it in her palm.

Amira walked towards the cool blip on her mental radar, sopping wet, barefoot, and ready for trouble. There were no kath hounds nearby, strangely enough. The dry, yellow grass crunched under her feet and swept greedily at the moisture on her skin. Grass seeds clung to her clothes. Amira scratched her arm absently.

The strange landscape of sharp, winding outcrops narrowed to form another narrow path flanked with high rock. Amira found herself sinking into a half crouch as she slowed. Every step was now placed with care. It opened up into what had to be the grove. Strange black pillars cut in a geometric design either stood with pride or had fallen in shame, the earth burying the latter in a slow death. Trees formed a loose privacy barrier. The air was still bereft of insects.

In the centre of the pillars was a figure in a stained and torn red robe. Darkness clung to them, like the eye of a storm: eerily calm but the wind and rain lashed out around them, spreading over the land. The person stood, revealing the silhouette of a female. Amira decided sneaking was pointless and straightened to briskly walk forward.

Amira barely had time to discover the woman was a pale-furred Cathar before the woman launched herself forward with a cry of, "I will be your doom!"

Her lightsaber activated to parry the vibrant crimson blade of her foe. Amira rolled sideways to put distance between them. She fell into the first stance of Ataru, an aggressive form specialised against single opponents, and darted forward. The Cathar blocked and swung her lightsaber sideways to cleave Amira in half. Amira jumped to avoid the blade, the Force flowing through her. They settled into a dance of attack-defend-attack, punctuated by grunts of exertion.

They were both tiring, though Amira knew she could go for a little longer before desperation would set in. She didn't want to be put in a position of kill or be killed. Unexpectedly, Master Zhar's words hung in her ears.

_Those on the dark path may not be irredeemable._

Struck by sudden inspiration, Amira threw a Force Wave at the unsuspecting Cathar. The feline flew backwards a few metres and landed heavily. Her lightsaber spun out of her hand. Amira backed up a few steps to give herself some more room, then dropped her lightsaber and held her hands up in surrender.

Her actions had the desired effect – the woman was completely derailed, shocked out of her bout of rage.

Her golden eyes widened. Beads decorating the ends of her dark braids clacked against each other as she jerked back. "What trick is this?"

"I didn't come to kill you. I came to talk," Amira replied, lowering her hand. In the long grass, her lightsaber twitched, gripped with the Force. If the Cathar made another stand to fight, Amira would be ready.

"You _swam_ here," her nose wrinkled, "defeated me and say you only wish to talk? No," she hissed. "You lie."

"Then why haven't I tried to kill you?" Amira challenged without heat. "Who are you?"

"My name is Juhani, and this is my grove you have invaded. When I embraced the dark side, this is where I sought solace. It is _mine_!"

Amira held up her hands to pacify Juhani, despite the fact the Cathar was still on the ground. "You're the one who corrupted the kath hounds?"

"Yes," she answered softly. Despite the volume, her words were laced with durasteel. "Are they not pretty? My pets. They like the smell of power I exude – they know their master."

"I see," Amira replied neutrally. "So, obvious question here: why did you embrace the dark side? You have a lightsaber and training, so you must have been a Jedi."

"I embraced the true power after I slew my master, Quatra. I knew I could not go back, so I came here," Juhani answered. Her pointed ears lowered to her skull. "You have now disturbed my sanctuary and shamed me."

Her mind cast back to that training session with Vrook. Amira opened her mouth, then shut it with a click. She rediscovered her voice the next time she opened her mouth. "You killed your master?"

"Yes, I struck her down during training, consumed by rage. I thought I was powerful, but you have proved otherwise, or I would have long since killed you." Her golden eyes slid away to fix on a patch of grass. "It– it was not enough." Those golden orbs suddenly flicked back to Amira, brimming with fire. "Why do you bother me so?"

"To be honest, this is the my last trial – cleanse the grove of the taint. But I've gotten the distinct impression Zhar intended the interpretation of that phrase to be somewhat vague, so here we are." Amira met Juhani's fierce eyes. "I have no desire to kill you."

"No? Perhaps you should." Juhani cast her eyes to the ground, her lips pulling back from her fangs. "I sat here and thought myself great in the darkness. I thought the masters were always holding me back, but I see now I was never able to meet their standards. How could I be turned back?"

"How could you not turn back, if you so wish it?" Amira challenged. "You are a talented young woman, Juhani."

"I thank you for your kind words, Jedi." Juhani calmed somewhat, the glower fading from her amber eyes. She pursed her lips, concealing her teeth. "It seems I still have much to learn, both about myself and about what it means to be a Jedi. I only wish the cost of my ignorance had not been so high."

Amira chose her next words carefully. "The Force allows her to live on." Despite her own private doubt, the words were steady.

"I only wish things could have been different." Juhani fell into a pensive silence.

Amira waited her out, holding her tongue.

"How can the Jedi take me back?" Juhani asked without warning. "Striking my master down in anger is unforgivable!"

"Those on the path of the dark side are not irredeemable," Amira said quietly. "You _want_ redemption. The only thing holding you back is you. Show the Council you have freed yourself from your anger and they won't turn you away."

Juhani was watching her carefully. When Amira finished, her eyes darted to the ground, then filmed over with the look of someone turning their thoughts inward. "Yes, it could work. If I show them I have cast off my passion; that I am serene. Yes, I might have a chance."

Amira closed the distance between them and held out a hand. Juhani grabbed her forearm. She remembered that Cathar considered it taboo to touch other people's hands as she hauled Juhani up.

"Let's go. I kind of want my clothes back. All this grass is making me itchy." Amira rubbed one calf against the other, shaking off grass seeds.

"You are used to cities, then?" Juhani questioned tentatively.

"Grew up on farm, left when I hit adulthood, been a spacer ever since." She paused, then amended, "Until I joined the Jedi. Dantooine is a far cry from the emptiness of space or the dirty spaceports. You could say it's been nostalgic."

"I see." Juhani led the way out of the grove, her steps light and confident. When they passed a pack of kath hounds lazing in the afternoon sun, she stopped to pat them fondly.

That gave Amira a jolt. She held up her wrist comlink and spoke into it. "Hello, anyone there?" No answer. Smirking mischievously, she tried a different idea. With each following sentence, she elevated her voice, becoming increasingly frustrated. "Pick up the comm. Come on, you know you want to. Pick it up, damn you!"

Finally there was a response. _"Damn infuriating woman,_" Canderous seethed. "_We were in the middle of fighting kath hounds! Now what the fracking hell do you want?"_

"What?" Amira asked innocently. "Did I interrupt your male bonding session?" She could almost hear the glares the two men were no doubt hurling at the comm. Stifling a snigger, she continued, "Okay, okay, I'll get down to business. You two need to head back to the _Hawk_."

"_What?!"_ Carth and Canderous shouted in unison. There was a pause and Amira was sure they were giving each other a look. She wished the comm had a visual so she could see what kind of look.

"_Girl, you're in an area with a known hostile-"_

"A hostile who is no longer hostile. Go back. Now." They began to object again, so Amira interrupted with, "I gave you both that order because my objectives have been completed and your presence is not needed." Simple, cold logic that couldn't be argued with. "I'm the one out here with Juhani and I'm the one with the Force powers. Neither of you can boast that. Some faith, please, boys."

Silence.

"_Fine."_ This time it was Carth who spoke.

"Good. I want both of you back at the _Hawk_ before Juhani and me. And alive and uninjured. I'm looking at you, Canderous. Keep your repeating blaster rifle pointed at enemies or at the ground."

"_You're no fun,"_ Canderous groused.

"Back before me, got it?" Without waiting for an answer, Amira switched off her comm. "Men," she said, shaking her head.

Juhani smiled back shyly.

"That's a start," Amira said. Despite her willingness to give Juhani another chance, she kept one hand on her lightsaber as they walked.

There was rustling behind her and a thrum through the Force. Amira spun, lightsaber in hand, to face the two kath hounds following them.

"Wait!" Juhani flung out an arm and stepped between Amira and the hounds. "They will not harm you."

It took a moment for trust to override combat instincts. She lowered her lightsaber but did not replace it on her belt. "How did you enthral the kath hounds?"

Juhani's ears briefly lowered as a flash of irritation crossed her features. "I did not enthral them. It is a technique to touch the minds of animals through the Force. They were attracted to my darkness, then became subservient when I proved my dominance. It does not, however, rely on the dark side to use."

Amira turned her head to look from Juhani to the kath hounds on their bellies. The Force and its myriad of uses still fascinated her, and probably would for a long time. Influencing animals sounded like a handy skill to have. She wondered if the masters taught it, and decided not to take the risk. "Can you show me how to do it?"

Juhani was taken aback. "You wish me to teach you?" she asked, uncertain.

"Sure," Amira shrugged. "Why not? You're good at it."

"If you are sure," Juhani murmured, looking nervous.

Amira smiled. "I am. How hard can it be?"

"Very well." The Cathar took a deep breath to centre herself. Then she began to speak; her soft, accented voice unintentionally soothing. "Close your eyes and stretch out your senses. Relax. Listen for the Force. Listen for the life that makes up the Force. Feel it. Breathe it."

Beside Juhani, Amira followed the instructions given. Juhani could feel the woman relaxing, her senses widening to a large radius. _This one is strong_, Juhani thought before continuing, "Listen for the heartbeats of the life around you. Listen for their breathing. Listen for their minds. Then drown out all but one." Amira sunk to her knees, the tall grass dancing around her head. "Gently brush the creature's mind, thinking calming thoughts. You need not completely enter the creature's mind, just picture where we are and ask the creature to come. Stay with it, keep yourself linked with its heartbeat as it approaches."

A minute rustle to the left had Juhani's senses on full alert. A kath hound appeared from the swaying grass and slowly walked to Amira.

"Good," Juhani murmured, then raised her voice so her companion could hear. "Stretch out your hand."

Amira complied, and the kath hound took the last three steps to the woman and sniffed her fingers. His pink tongue licked her hand.

"Open your eyes, Amira," the Cathar said, and was rewarded with a gasp of delight a few seconds later.

At first her movements were sluggish, the typical sign of having come out of meditation, but they quickly became more animated. Juhani smiled as Amira showered affection on the male kath hound, her hands stroking his rough fur.

"Okay, this is awesome," Amira muttered, rubbing the kath hound's belly. "Much nicer than killing them. Does this mean they won't be as aggressive any more?"

"Yes. Also, they will not attack as long as I am present. With practice, you will be able to touch their minds and calm them. Then you will be safe, too."

"Maybe this Jedi thing wasn't such a bad idea after all. Alright," Heaving a sigh, Amira stood. "We better get moving before Carth and Canderous kill each other."

She shooed the kath hounds away and followed Juhani, who knew the gnarled maze of tree roots and rocky outcrops like the back of her hand. They reached the creek; Amira didn't need the Force to know the men weren't present. Unconcerned, the two women continued, adjusting their course to return to the enclave.

There was twinge in Amira's senses. A sideways glance told her Juhani felt it too, as her ears were pricked forward and alert. Juhani's eyes darted over the plains, spotting the two men first.

"Are they your companions?" she rumbled. Juhani's eyes narrowed as they swept over Canderous.

Amira gave them a once over as they approached. "Yeah."

Feeling the Cathar's spike of resentment, she nudged Juhani and murmured, "Peace, remember?"

Juhani turned her golden scowl onto Amira. After a few moments, she relented with lowered ears. She turned back to Canderous and asked, "You are not among those who stalk these plains?" Her words were frosted.

Canderous growled low in his throat. "I still have my honour."

"So says the crime lord's kath hound," Carth retorted.

"Alright, everyone take it easy," Amira said loudly. "I don't want any not-so-friendly friendly fire. Carth, Canderous, why are you two still here?"

"Ambushed by these _huttune_." Canderous jerked a thumb at the nearest corpse encased in an armour that was too familiar.

Amira raised an eyebrow as she surveyed the carnage. She counted at least half a dozen bodies and she had a suspicion there were more. "You say you were _ambushed_?"

"Common tactic for Mandalorians," Carth filled in with a shrug. Despite his nonchalance, Amira caught a hint of pride threading through his aura.

"Alright then. Where are my clothes?" Amira followed Carth's pointed finger to see her gear decorating the base of a tree with a messiness that suggested it had been thrown. She sat down to brush the dirt from her feet and pull on her socks.

Canderous stopped close by, looking down at her. "I'm going to hunt the rest of these bandits before they bring more shame to the name of Mandalore."

"Not on your own you're not," she replied without missing a beat.

"Since when did you become the one I take orders from?"

Amira glared up at him, painfully aware of her weakened position. Something told her it was no coincidence that Canderous chose now to state his intention. She pulled on her last boot and stood, sliding her robe around her. "I'm not. I'm the idiot trying to keep you from getting yourself killed. It's only mid afternoon now, but it's still a good trek back to the enclave. You can come back tomorrow when you're freshened up and I can watch your six."

Both Carth and Juhani looked mildly scandalised. Amira wondered if it was her trying to stop Canderous from getting himself killed or that she had every intention of helping him so he wouldn't get himself killed.

"Tired, Jedi?" Canderous taunted.

"Smart Jedi." She finished tying her obi then buckled her belt and clipped her lightsaber to it. "Why fight two battles in one day when you can fight two battles in two days?"

In the back of her mind where Amira felt sensations through the Force, there was a sharp yank like a thread being pulled from a spider's web. She stilled and stretched her senses. A burning passion, streamlined anger and brazen determination assaulted her, as sharp as spice in her sinuses. There was only one group that burned with that much vitality.

"Well, Canderous, you get to fight your raiders after all." Amira's lightsaber was in her hand, unlit. "They're coming from the south east and closing in. Probably not happy that you two clobbered their buddies. Juhani, do you know any tricks for disabling hostiles from a distance?"

"I do not trust myself right now, but I can try."

"Do your best." She turned to the men. "Either of you have grenades?" They both produced the asked for projectiles, which Amira took. "I'll throw to take down any shields and weaken their armour, then you two shoot."

There was little time to protest the plan as the tell-tale whine of speeder engines cut through the still afternoon air. They readied themselves, weapons drawn. Amira readied the first grenade, her finger holding down the concave button. When two speeders jammed full of angry Mandalorians became visible, Juhani's low hiss tickled Amira's ears.

Amira adjusted her stance and pulled back her throwing arm. When the first speeder was within range, she launched the grenade, closely followed by a second. One bounced off the rim, but the second landed in the open seats. She didn't pause to watch the explosion; her job was to throw the rest of the grenades as a hail of blasterfire streaked through the air. Explosions and shouts rent the air; burnt flesh and blood hung like a heavy cloud. One speeder went down dozens of metres away; three stubborn Mandalorians and one Duros crawled out of the wreckage to be assaulted by the merciless bark of Canderous' repeating blaster. The Duros was pulled to the ground by two kath hounds leaping out of the grass; his screams cut off with a gurgle. The hounds moved on to new targets.

Amira threw the last grenade, sensing the Force ripple around them. Blaster shots whined through the air and stopped dead. The air in front of them wavered, as if heat was venting from the ground. A sideways glance told her the barrier was Juhani's work.

Drawing her lightsaber, Amira assessed the battlefield. The grenades had done an excellent job in evening the odds, leaving only six Mandalorians remaining.

Their leader was obvious to identify: he wore the yellow armour of a field marshall while the others wore the standard blue armour of neo-crusaders.

The yellow helmet swivelled to rest on Canderous. "Ordo, eh?" He laughed, sounding tinny through his helmet. "Your clan never knew when to cut its losses."

"As opposed to _hut__'u__une_ like yourselves?" Canderous shot back. "When the war turned against us you _fled!_ You're _dar'manda!_"

Amira whistled. Accusing a Mandalorian of being _dar'manda_ – that they had lost their heritage and thus their identity – was one of the greatest insults that could be slung at them.

Lightsaber igniting with a hiss, Amira charged into the melee. As quickly as the battle lulled, it reignited.

Their leader laughed. His words were lost to her conscious mind as she weaved between two raiders. She sliced at the weak points in their armour. One crumpled with a groan; the other dropped when her lightsaber protruded from his chest.

When she returned to herself, Amira saw two being cornered by Carth and Juhani while Canderous was trading blows with the leader, having swapped his blaster for a vibroblade.

_We've killed two of your Jedi already. I'll add your lightsaber to my collection!_

The words finally bit into her mind. She lunged forward, slashing at the leader's flank. Canderous feinted toward the leader's wrist, then slammed the blade into his shoulder. Amira kicked out his knee, finishing his descent. Her lightsaber found its way to his throat.

"Where are the Jedi you killed?" Amira demanded. When the leader didn't answer, she slid her lightsaber closer to his neck. His armour, despite being cortosis weave, began to smoke from the proximity. "_Tion'vaii val?_" she growled.

Finally, the Mandalorian cooperated. "A few kilometres downstream. There's a waterfall – we tossed 'em down."

Amira kept her face smooth and unreadable, but didn't say anything for nearly a minute. When she did, it was to Canderous. "Do you want the honours, Canderous?"

"You defeated him; it's your kill," he replied.

She started to swing her blade back, then paused. She had spared Juhani, so why not this Mandalorian? The only difference was that she had been sent to confront the former, while the latter had been an unexpected conflict. Had it been mere minutes earlier, she could have killed him with a clear conscience; death in combat and death by execution were two different things. Amira was all too experienced in the ways of the galaxy; she had made many kills almost identical to this one, and after reconciling the notion of killing they had not troubled her sleep. Junayd's face flashed across her mind's eye.

"What are you waiting for?" the granite crack of Canderous' voice broke her out of her thoughts. "He'll die of waiting before you even get to him."

"Damn Jedi," the Mandalorian kneeling before her spat. "Your hesitation will be your undoing. You know you're already a hypocrite by preaching mercy while felling enemies in battle, so just get it over with!"

Amira shifted, readying her arm to strike, then spied Juhani watching silently. The full extent of Vrook's warning on impulsiveness bloomed in front of her eyes. Execution was something Amira the smuggler – not to mention most of the sentients in the galaxy – was comfortable with, but it wasn't acceptable for the Jedi.

The Jedi's stance on execution was clear, but Amira highly doubted any of the masters had been faced with the choice of killing or sparing an enemy prisoner in the last twenty years or however long it had been since they joined the Council.

Something so easy to understand within the confines of the enclave evidently hadn't lasted out the airlock. Reality was a clump of mud thrown into the crystal clear stream of teachings.

But Amira was a sentinel, and a smuggler before that. She had learned to weasel through the tiniest escape route to create a third option. Agile mind clicking, she quickly ran through her goals and where they conflicted. One option was left.

Grasping the Force as she might a hammer, Amira mentally struck down on the kneeling Mandalorian. He crumpled silently.

"The hell did you just do?" Canderous demanded. "If you denied him even the traitor's sentence by using your Force–"

"I do believe I aptly simulated the effect of a rather large rock dropping on his head," Amira interrupted smoothly. "He's going to have quite the headache when he wakes up."

Canderous' lip curled back from his teeth as he sneered, "For someone who claims to have lived on the Rim, you don't seem capable of practicality. He is _dar'manda_ and deserves to die for the shame he has brought to his clan."

"Not arguing with you there. I'm just going to turn him over to the local authorities, who will happily do my job for me."

"You're giving this one to the settlers?" Juhani questioned. There was something rumbling in her voice, but Amira couldn't work out what it was.

"Jedi," Amira reminded them, "don't kill their prisoners. While two of our own were killed by the raiders, the locals are the ones who have been most grieved. So this one will face a trial under Dantooine law."

Carth openly watched her; Amira could see his agile mind attacking the current situation. It wouldn't take him long to figure it all out.

"Now," Amira clapped her hands together, "we have work to do. We need to get him to a holding cell, find those Jedi and make it back to the enclave in one piece."

"The other group of Mandalorians had speeders we can use," Carth said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

"Perfect. Now," Amira surveyed her companions. "Who wants to guard the prisoner while the rest of us find the Jedi?" She knelt down, claiming the two lightsabers from the Mandalorian's belt and hooking them on her own.

There were several long moments of silence before Canderous long-sufferingly volunteered. "I'll make sure he won't get away," he promised.

Amira nodded. Did she trust him to not kill the raider the moment her back was turned? No, but she wasn't truly bothered either way. Some things never changed, and weeks of one philosophy couldn't overrule years of another. Juhani was troubled by something, though it was unknown whether it was on the mistake of sparing the Mandalorian, the relief of sparing him, or how easily Amira had prepared to kill him before thinking twice. "Let's go."

Carth lengthened his stride to catch up with Amira and easily kept pace with her. Amira glanced at him but said nothing. He would talk – or wouldn't – at his own discretion. "Jedi don't kill their prisoners," he said slowly, "but local Dantooine law might have capital punishment. You're not landing the killing blow, but you could be inadvertently be killing him. Same with leaving Canderous to guard him. They have their own code of retribution."

Amira nodded. "As I said before, the farmers have been hurt the most by the raiders. If the Jedi dish out the punishment, it could be seen as unfair and limp-wristed. If he goes to trial under their law, everyone's happy. The Jedi get the credit for stopping the bandits, don't kill a prisoner, and the farmers get their retribution."

"Clever," he remarked.

Amira shrugged. "If the battle had been a few seconds longer, we would have just killed him and been done with it. But I suppose everyone loves a martyr – they get to burn that Mando at the stake and reinforce their outdated hatred. The Council probably won't approve of this, but they're as politically caught as I am, nor can they openly smack my wrists for this."

Carth was silent for a few moments, then asked, "Are you sure you were just a smuggler before your conscription?"

"I'd like to think I'd remember something as important as a different career," Amira shot back. "No, despite being 'just a smuggler' it's hard to avoid the tangles of politics. The Mandalorian Wars, the current war, hell, even Exar Kun's war, all had effects that rippled out to the Rim. When I was conscripted, I did my research on the current factions. No sense in allowing generalisations and prejudices to rule my judgements."

"That's–" Carth broke off to change the next word, "thorough."

"And not the word you wanted to use," she smiled. "Call me a spy if you want, but logic states that I shouldn't have been able to trick a whole enclave of Jedi – some of which are incredibly powerful – into letting me in and teaching me their secrets."

Following the creek, it didn't take them long to find the waterfall. It was only four metres high, making it possible to climb down. Juhani jumped down the embankment containing the flow of water with the grace imbued into her species. Amira followed with more care after she slipped on one wet rock. Carth's speedy reflexes were the only thing that saved her from an embarrassing fall. He silently waved off her murmured thanks.

Juhani prowled along the water's edge, ears half-back and nose twitching. She pointed to one spot in the creek. "There."

Amira and Carth caught up to the Cathar. Carth absently gripped one of his blasters. Amira followed Juhani's unwavering finger and squinted. Honey gold diamonds danced across the water's surface, wastefully cast down by the afternoon sun. Underneath, she could see two light cream lumps bobbing with the roaring rhythm of the waterfall.

"I guess I'm going swimming again," Amira murmured. This time she only took off her boots and socks before wading in. The water was colder, gnawing at her legs with the insistence of a kath pup.

Waist deep, Amira reached for the nearest waterlogged robe. The Jedi's hair floated around her head, a halo of ash blonde. When Amira rolled the female Jedi onto her back, she grimaced at the evidence of small nibbling creatures. The other Jedi was a young man, his padawan braid gently undulating in the water's current.

Amira jumped when a pair of hands grabbed the body's legs. She looked up to see Carth, minus his jacket and boots, grim and steady. They carried the first Jedi to the shore and came back for the second. The mud sucked at Amira's feet, trying to trip her with every step as they deprived the creek of its second victim. Juhani watched in silence, her tawny eyes dark.

"Now I'm really ready to go back to the enclave," Amira announced.

~.~.~

"Masters," Amira called, vaulting over the speeder door and jogging towards them.

"What is it?" Master Torrah asked gently, her sky blue eyes filled with concern.

Amira unclipped the two lightsabers off her belt and held them up, one in each hand. Nemo sucked in a breath and Torrah's eyes widened, but those were their only physical reactions.

"Where did you find these?" Master Nemo asked.

"The Mandalorians killed two Jedi," Amira answered. "We found their bodies dumped in a stream."

That sent the two masters into a flurry of activity. Amira was relieved of the lightsabers, thanked, and told that her role had been finished. Somehow Master Vandar had been alerted – or maybe he had sensed the disturbance – and materialised to direct the proceedings as the unconscious Mandalorian leader was removed to be escorted to a detention centre. She and Juhani slunk into the enclave, forgotten amidst the chaos of unloading the bodies and making preparations. The two padawans walked to the council chambers in silence; Juhani to confess to the Jedi Council and Amira to report to Zhar.

He looked her up and down as she entered the small side room he was meditating in. Amira wondered what he saw. A dirty, damp woman who had clearly been swimming more than once, or something else? "I sense the finality of death," he observed slowly.

"Not Juhani," Amira responded. She eyed one of the cushions speculatively, but a waft of mud and tannin water stopped her. "She's speaking with the rest of the council who weren't diverted by the dead Jedi we found. You're probably sensing those Mandalorians, but their leader isn't dead either. I'm hoping the raids will cease-"

Zhar held up a hand to quieten her. "You are not speaking clearly. Start from the beginning and tell me all that has transpired."

Deciding that she just didn't care any more, Amira threw herself down on one of the cushions and pulled off her boots. Peeling off her socks was unpleasant, as they were damp and had caught various specks of debris, but her shrivelled feet felt better. Then Amira retold all that had happened on the plains, this time in proper order.

Zhar was quiet after she finished. "Your trial was thorough indeed, but I am glad to see you passed. Not only did you spare Juhani, but was clear-headed enough to apply it to the Mandalorians as well. While their leader's prosecution may fulfil a vengeance cycle that will likely continue, you did what you could. It was the only outcome that would not increase tension between the Jedi and the settlers."

Amira nodded absently, mentally pining for a hot spray of water to wash away grime and the stench of battle.

Realising he had lost the attention of his student, Zhar quickly dismissed her.

~.~.~

Her official promotion to padawan was quiet and quick, but Amira didn't mind. Zhar was the only one present, both as her master and her audience. The pride in his eyes was unmistakable, and sparked an ember of affection to burn quietly behind Amira's breastbone. She had been right to defend his honour as her master when he had worked so hard to see her succeed. In the small training room that had been claimed as theirs, Amira felt the appropriate reverence for the moment. A quiet determination exuded from the walls, the enclave itself encouraging her to continue on this new path that had been forged for her.

The promotion to padawan also bequeathed her with another, more sombre duty.

The horizon was a pale, wan red where it kissed the earth, fading into a poisonous yellow and casting ugly orange light onto the earth.

A few Dantooine settlers were clumped together at the edge of the gathering, muttering to each other. In the late afternoon light, Amira could just make out Jon's stony face. A few other people Amira had noticed outside the enclave were there too, their expressions appropriately mournful. Mission, Zaalbar, Canderous and Carth, on the other hand, were mingled with the Jedi. Mission was standing next to Shae and a few other padawans, while Zaalbar was a silent guardian a few feet behind them. Carth was standing awkwardly between Mission's group and Bastila. Canderous was a few metres behind Carth, and watched the proceedings with hard grey eyes. Juhani and Belaya were on the other side of the funeral pyres, as far away from the Mandalorian as they could get. Nemo and the council members were scattered around with a few more Jedi, their faces serene masks but their eyes holding a hint of sadness.

Amira and Master Torrah stood separate from the rest. Both held traditional unlit torches. Their backs were straight and their shoulders were square as they stood, waiting.

At some unspoken signal Amira missed, someone produced a spark to light Torrah's torch. She turned to Amira and extended the burning end. Amira lit her own torch; they waited for the flames to conquer the fabric wrapping.

Torrah projected her thoughts into the air rather than touch Amira's mind directly. _[With me, Padawan.]_

They moved forward as one to light the pyres of their fallen comrades.

~.~.~

Thanks to Wookieepedia and Mando' for the _Mando'a_. With Amira's question to the Mandalorian raider, I had to piece it together myself. If it's wrong, please let me know.

Mando'a Translation:

_Ori'haat – _It's the truth, I swear – no bantha

_Hut'uune_ – Cowards

_Dar'manda_ – Not Mandalorian (in the sense that they have lost their heritage and, by extent, identity. One of the worst possible insults for a Mandalorian)

_Tion'vaii val? _– Where are they?


End file.
